THE  STURDY  OAK 

f    J  I    I 

A  composite  Novel  of  American  Politics 
by  fourteen  American  authors : 


SAMUEL  MERWIN 
HARRY  LEON  WILSON 
FANNIE  HURST 
DOROTHY  CANFIELD 
KATHLEEN  NORRIS 
HENRY  KITCHELL  WEBSTER 
ANNE  O'HAGAN 


MARY  HEATON  VORSE 
ALICE  DUER  MILLER 
ETHEL  WATTS  MUMFORD 
MARJORIE    BENTON    COOKE 
WILLIAM   ALLEN    WHITE 
MARY  AUSTIN 
LEROY  SCOTT 


THEME  BY  MARY  AUSTIN 

The  chapters  collected  and   (very  cautiously)   edited  by 
ELIZABETH  JORDAN 

Illustrations  by 
HENRY  RALEIGH 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
1917 


COPYRIGHT,  1917 

BY 
P.  F.  COLLIER  &  SON 

COPYRIGHT,  1917 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Published  November,  1917 


THE  QUINN  4  BOOEN  CO.  PRESS 
RAHWAY,  N.  J. 


PREFACE 

At  a  certain  committee  meeting  held  in  the  spring  of 
1916,  it  was  agreed  that  fourteen  leading  American 
authors,  known  to  be  extremely  generous  as  well  as 
gifted,  should  be  asked  to  write  a  composite  novel. 

As  I  was  not  present  at  this  particular  meeting,  it 
was  unanimously  and  joyously  decided  by  those  who 
were  present  that  I  should  attend  to  the  trivial  details 
of  getting  this  novel  together. 

It  appeared  that  all  I  had  to  do  was: 

First,  to  persuade  each  of  the  busy  authors  on  the 
list  to  write  a  chapter  of  the  novel. 

Second,  to  keep  steadily  on  their  trails  from  the 
moment  they  promised  their  chapters  until  they  turned 
them  in. 

Third,  to  have  the  novel  finished  and  published 
serially  during  the  autumn  Campaign  of  1917. 

The  carrying  out  of  these  requirements  has  not 
been  the  childish  diversion  it  may  have  seemed. 
Splendid  team  work,  however,  has  made  success  pos 
sible. 

Every  author  represented,  every  worker  on  the 
team,  has  gratuitously  contributed  his  or  her  services ; 
and  every  dollar  realized  by  the  serial  and  book  pub 
lication  of  "  The  Sturdy  Oak  "  will  be  devoted  to  the 
Suffrage  Cause.  But  the  novel  itself  is  first  of  all  a 
very  human  story  of  American  life  today.  It  neither 
unduly  nor  unfairly  emphasizes  the  question  of  equal 
suffrage,  and  it  should  appeal  to  all  lovers  of  good 
fiction. 

Therefore,  pausing  only  to  wipe  the  beads  of  per 
spiration  from  our  brows,  we  urge  every  one  to  buy 
this  book! 

ELIZABETH  JORDAN. 
NEW  YORK, 
November,  1917. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I BY  SAMUEL  MERWIN  ....  i 

II BY  HARRY  LEON  WILSON   ...  27 

III BY  FANNIE  HURST       .  "    .       .       .  51 

IV BY  DOROTHY  CANFIELD       ...  71 

V BY  KATHLEEN  NORRIS  <       ...  92 

VI BY  HENRY  KITCHELL  WEBSTER        .  116 

VII BY  ANNE  O'HAGAN      ....  143 

VIII BY  MARY  HEATON  VORSE  .       .       .  168 

IX BY  ALICE  DUER  MILLER     .       .       .185 

X BY  ETHEL  WATTS  MUMFORD     .       .  203 

XI BY  MARJORIE  BENTON  COOK      .       .  235 

XII BY  WILLIAM  ALLEN  WHITE     .       .  261 

XIII BY  MARY  AUSTIN  X    ....  286 

XIV BY  LEROY  SCOTT 312 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  Nobody  ever  means  that  a  woman  really  can't 
get  along  without  a  man's  protection,  because 
look  at  the  women  who  do  "  .  .  Frontispiece 


It  was  hard  on  the  darling  old  boy  to  come  home 
to  Miss  Emelene  and  the  cat  and  Eleanor  and 
Alys  every  night ! 104 

"  You  mean  because  she's  a  suffragist  ?  You  sent 
her  away  for  that!  Why,  really,  that's 
tyranny!" 174 

Across  the  way,  Mrs.  Herrington,  the  fighting 
blood  of  five  generations  of  patriots  roused  in 
her,  had  reinstated  the  Voiceless  Speech  .  .314 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 

George  Remington.  .  .  .  Aged  twenty-six;  newly 
married.  Recently  returned  to  his  home  town, 
New  York  State,  to  take  up  the  practice  of  law. 
Politically  ambitious,  a  candidate  for  District  At 
torney.  Opposed  to  woman  suffrage. 

Genevieve.  .  .  .  His  wife,  aged  twenty-three, 
graduate  of  Smith.  Devoted  to  George;  her  ideal 
being  to  share  his  every  thought. 

Betty  Sheridan.  ...  A  friend  of  Genevieve. 
Very  pretty;  one  of  the  first  families,  well-to-do  but 
in  search  of  economic  independence.  Working  as 
stenographer  in  George's  office  ;  an  ardent  Suffragist. 

Penfield  Evans.  .  .  .  Otherwise  "  Penny/'  George's 
partner,  in  love  with  Betty.  Neutral  on  the  subject 
of  Suffrage. 

Alys  Brewster-Smith.  .  .  .  Cousin  of  George,  once 
removed;  thirty-three,  a  married  woman  by  profes 
sion,  but  temporarily  widowed.  Anti-suffragist.  One 
Angel  Child  aged  five. 

Martin  Jaffry.  .  .  .  Uncle  to  George,  bachelor  of 
uncertain  age  and  certain  income.  The  widow's  des 
tined  prey. 


Cousin  Emelene.  .  .  .  On  Genevieve's  side. 
tween  thirty-five  and  forty,  a  born  spinster  but  cring 
ing  to  the  hope  of  marriage  as  the  only  career  for 
women.  Has  a  small  and  decreasing  income.  Af 
fectedly  feminine  and  genuinely  incompetent. 

ix 


x  PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 

Mrs.  Harvey  Herrington.  ...  President  of  the 
Woman's  Club,  the  Municipal  League,  Suffrage  bo- 
ciety  leader,  wealthy,  cultured  and  possessing  a  sense 
of  humor. 

Percival  Pauncefoot  Sheridan.  .  .  .  Betty's  brother, 
fifteen,  commonly  called  Pudge.  Pink,  pudgy,  sensi 
tive;  always  imposed  upon,  always  grouchy  and  too 
good-natured  to  assert  himself. 

E.  Eliot.  .  .  .  Real  estate  agent  (added  in  Chapter 
VI  by  Henry  Kitchell  Webster). 

Benjamin  Doolittle.  ...  A  leader  of  his  party,  and 
somewhat  careless  where  he  leads  it.  (Added  m 
Anne  O'Hagan's  Chapter). 

Patrick  Noonan.  ...  A  follower  of  Doolittle. 
Time.  .    .    .  The  Present. 

Place  .  Whitewater,  N.  Y.    A  manufacturing 

town  of  from  ten  to  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants. 


THE  STURDY  OAK 

CHAPTER  I 
BY  SAMUEL  MERWIN 

GENEVIEVE  REMINGTON  had  been  called  beauti 
ful.  She  was  tall,  with  brown  eyes  and  a  fine  spun 
mass  of  golden-brown  hair.  She  had  a  gentle  smile, 
that  disclosed  white,  even  teeth.  Her  voice  was  not 
unmusical.  She  was  twenty-three  years  old  and 
possessed  a  husband  who,  though  only  twenty-six, 
had  already  shown  such  strength  of  character  and 
such  aptitude  at  the  criminal  branch  of  the  law  that 
he  was  now  a  candidate  for  the  post  of  district 
attorney  on  the  regular  Republican  ticket. 

The  popular  impression  was  that  he  would  be 
elected  hands  down.  His  address  on  Alexander 
Hamilton  at  the  Union  League  Club  banquet  at 
Hamilton  City,  twenty-five  miles  from  Whitewater 
(with  which  smaller  city  we  are  concerned  in  this 
narrative),  had  been  reprinted  in  full  in  the  Hamil- 


THE  STURDY  OAK 


ton  City  Tribune;  and  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  re 
ported  that  former  Congressman  Hancock  had 
compared  it,  not  unfavorably,  with  certain  public 
utterances  of  the  Honorable  Elihu  Root. 

George  Remington  was  an  inch  more  than  six  feet 
tall,  with  sturdy  shoulders,  a  chin  that  gave  every 
indication  of  stubborn  strength,  a  frank  smile,  and 
a  warm,  strong  handclasp.  He  was  connected  by 
blood  (as  well  as  by  marriage)  with  five  of  the 
eight  best  families  in  Whitewater.  Mr.  Martin 
Jaffry,  George's  uncle  and  sole  inheritor  of  the 
great  Jaffry  estate  (and  a  bachelor),  was  known  to 
favor  his  candidacy;  was  supposed,  indeed,  to  be 
a  large  contributor  to  the  Remington  campaign 
fund.  In  fact,  George  Remington  was  a  lucky 
young  man,  a  coming  young  man. 

George  and  Genevieve  had  been  married  five 
weeks;  this  was  their  first  day  as  master  and  mis 
tress  of  the  old  Remington  place  on  Sheridan  Road. 

Genevieve,  that  afternoon,  was  in  the  long  living- 
room,  trying  out  various  arrangements  of  the 
flowers  that  had  been  sent  in.  There  were  a  great 
many  flowers.  Most  of  them  came  from  admirers 


THE  STURDY  OAK  3 

of  George.  The  Young  Men's  Republican  Club, 
for  one  item,  had  sent  eight  dozen  roses.  But 
Genevieve,  still  a-thrill  with  the  magic  of  her 
five-weeks-long  honeymoon,  tremulously  happy  in 
the  cumulative  proof  that  her  husband  was  the 
noblest,  strongest,  bravest  man  alive,  felt  only  joy 
in  his  popularity. 

As  his  wife  she  shared  his  triumphs.  "  For  better 
or  worse,  for  richer  or  poorer,  in  sickness  and 
health  ..."  the  ancient  phrases  repeated  them 
selves  so  many  times  in  her  softly  confused  thought, 
as  she  moved  about  among  the.  flowers,  that  they 
finally  took  on  a  rhythm — 

"  For  better  or  worse, 
For  richer  or  poorer, 
For  richer  or  poorer, 
For  better  or  worse " 

On  this  day  her  life  was  beginning.  She  had 
given  herself  irrevocably  into  the  hands  of  this 
man.  She  would  live  only  in  him.  Her  life  would 
find  expression  only  through  his.  His  strong, 


'4  THE  STURDY  OAK 

trained  mind  would  be  her  guide,  his  sturdy  courage 
her  strength.  He  would  build  for  them  both,  for 
the  twain  that  were  one. 

She  caught  up  one  red  rose,  winked  the  moisture 
from  her  eyes,  and  gazed — rapt,  lips  parted,  color 
high — out  at  the  close-clipped  lawn  behind  the  privet 
hedge.  The  afternoon  would  soon  be  waning — 
in  another  hour  or  so.  She  must  not  disturb  him 
now. 

In  an  hour,  say,  she  would  run  up  the  stairs  and 
tap  at  his  door.  And  he  would  come  out,  clasp  her 
in  his  big  arms,  and  she  would  stand  on  the  tips 
of  her  toes  and  kiss  away  the  wrinkles  between  his 
brows,  and  they  would  walk  on  the  lawn  and 
talk  about  themselves  and  the  miracle  of  their 
love. 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  three.  She 
pouted;  turned  and  stared  at  it.  "Well,"  she  told 
herself,  "  I'll  wait  until  half-past  four." 

The  doorbell  rang. 

Genevieve's  color  faded.  The  slim  hand  that 
held  the  rose  trembled  a  very  little.  Her  first 
caller! 


THE  STURDY  OAK  5 

She  decided  that  it  would  be  best  not  to  talk  about 
George.  Not  one  word  about  George!  Her  feel 
ings  were  her  secret — and  his. 

Marie  ushered  in  two  ladies.  One,  who  rushed 
forward  with  outstretched  hand,  was  a  curiously 
vital-appearing  creature  in  black — plainly  a  widow 
— hardly  more  than  thirty-two  or  thirty-three,  fresh 
of  skin,  rather  prominent  as  to  eyeballs,  yet,  every 
thing  considered,  a  handsome  woman.  This  was 
Alys  Brewster-Smith.  The  other,  shorter,  slighter, 
several  years  older,  a  faded,  smiling,  tremulously 
hopeful  spinster,  was  Genevieve's  own  cousin, 
Emelene  Brand. 

"  It's  so  nice  of  you  to  come — "  Genevieve  be 
gan  timidly,  only  to  be  swept  aside  by  the  superior 
aggressiveness  and  the  stronger  voice  of  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith. 

"  My  dear!  Isn't  it  perfectly  delightful  to  see 
you  actually  mistress  of  this  wonderful  old  home. 
And  " — her  slightly  prominent  eyes  swiftly  took  in 
furniture,  pictures,  rugs,  flowers, — "  how  wonder 
fully  you  have  managed  to  give  the  old  place  your 
own  tone ! " 


6  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Nothing  has  been  changed,"  murmured  Gene- 
vieve,  a  thought  bewildered. 

"  Nothing,  my  dear,  but  yourself !  I  am  so  look 
ing  forward  to  a  good  talk  with  you.  Emelene 
and  I  were  speaking  of  that  only  this  noon.  And 
I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  that  our  first  call 
has  to  be  on  a  miserable  political  matter.  Tell  me, 
dear,  is  that  wonderful  husband  of  yours  at  home?  " 

"  Why — yes.    But  I  am  not  to  disturb  him." 

"  Ah,  shut  away  in  his  den  ?  " 

Genevieve  nodded. 

"  It's  a  very  important  paper  he  has  to  write. 
It  has  to  be  done  now,  before  he  is  drawn  into  the 
whirl  of  campaign  work." 

"Of  course!  Of  course!  But  I'm  afraid  the 
campaign  is  whirling  already.  I  will  tell  you  what 
brought  us,  my  dear.  You  know  of  course  that 
Mrs.  Harvey  Herrington  has  come  out  for  suffrage 
— thrown  in  her  whole  personal  weight  and,  no 
doubt,  her  money.  I  can't  understand  it — with  her 
home,  and  her  husband — going  into  the  mire  of 
politics.  But  that  is  what  she  has  done.  And  Grace 
Hatfield  called  up  not  ten  minutes  ago  to  say  that 


THE  STURDY  OAK  7 

she  has  just  led  a  delegation  of  ladies  up  to  your 
husband's  office.  Think  of  it — to  his  office!  The 
first  day!  .  .  .  Well,  Emelene,  it  is  some  con 
solation  that  they  won't  find  him  there. " 

"  He  isn't  going  to  the  office  today,"  said  Gene- 
vieve.  "  But  what  can  they  want  of  him  ?  " 

"  To  get  him  to  declare  for  suffrage,  my  dear." 
"  Oh — I'm  sure  he  wouldn't  do  that !  " 
"  Are  you,  my  dear?    Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Well " 

"  He  has  told  you  his  views,  of  course?  " 
Genevieve    knit    her    brows.    "  Why,    yes — of 

course,  we've  talked  about  things " 

"  My  dear,  of  course  he  is  against  suffrage." 
"  Oh  yes,  of  course.     I'm  sure  he  is.     Though, 
you  see,  I  would  no  more  think  of  intruding  in 
George's  business  affairs  than  he  would  think  of 
intruding  in  my  household  duties/' 

"  Naturally,  Genevieve.  And  very  sweet  and 
dear  of  you!  But  I'm  sure  you  will  see  how  very 
important  this  is.  Here  we  are,  right  at  the  be 
ginning  of  his  campaign.  Those  vulgar  women  are 
going  to  hound  him.  They've  begun  already.  As 


8  THE  STURDY  OAK 

our  committee  wrote  him  last  week,  it  is  vitally 
important  that  he  should  declare  himself  unequivo 
cally  at  once." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  murmured  Genevieve,  "  of  course. 
I  can  see  that." 

The  doors  swung  open.  A  thin  little  man  of 
forty  to  fifty  stood  there,  a  dry  but  good-humored 
man,  with  many  wrinkles  about  his  quizzical  blue 
eyes,  and  sandy  hair  at  the  sides  and  back  of  an 
otherwise  bald  head.  He  was  smartly  dressed  in 
a  homespun  Norfolk  suit.  He  waved  a  cap  of 
homespun  in  greeting. 

"  Afternoon,  ladies !  Genevieve,  a  bachelor's  ad 
miration  and  respect!  I  hope  that  boy  George  has 
got  sense  enough  to  be  proud  of  you.  But  they 
haven't  at  that  age,  They're  all  for  them 
selves." 

"  Oh  no,  Uncle  Martin,"  cried  Genevieve, 
"  George  is  the  most  generous " 

Mr.  Martin  Jaffry  flicked  his  cap.  "  All  right. 
All  right!  He  is."  And  slowly  retreated. 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith,  an  eager  light  in  her  eyes, 
moved  part  way  across  the  room.  "  But  we  can't 


THE  STURDY  OAK  9 

let  you  run  away  like  this,  Mr.  Jaff ry.  Do  sit  down 
and  tell  us  about  the  work  you  are  doing  at  the 
Country  Club.  Is  it  to  be  bowling  alley  and  swim 
ming  pool " 

"  Bowling  alley  and  swimming  pool,  yes.  Tell 
me,  chick,  might  a  humble  constituent  speak  to  the 
great  man?  " 

Genevieve  hesitated.  "  I'm  sure  he'd  love  to  see 
you,  Uncle  Martin.  But  he  did  say " 

"  Not  to  be  disturbed  by  anybody,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Martin.  It's  a  very  important  state 
ment  he  has  to  prepare  before " 

"  Good  day,  then.  You  look  fine  in  the  old  house, 
chick!" 

Mr.  Jaffry  donned  his  cap  of  homespun,  ran 
down  the  steps  and  out  the  front  walk,  hopped  into 
his  eight-cylinder  roadster,  and  was  off  down  the 
street  in  a  second.  There  was  a  sharp  decisiveness 
about  his  exit,  and  about  the  sudden  speed  of  his 
machine;  all  duly  noted  by  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith, 
who  had  gone  so  far  as  to  move  down  the  room  to 
the  front  window  and  watch  the  performance  with 
narrowed  eyes. 


io  THE  STURDY  OAK 

The  Jaffry  Building  stands  at  the  southwest 
corner  of  Fountain  Square.  It  boasts  six  stories, 
mosaic  flooring  in  the  halls,  and  the  only  passenger 
elevator  in  Whitewater.  The  ground  floor  was 
given  over  to  Humphrey's  drug  store ;  and  most  of 
Humphrey's  drug  store  was  given  over  to  the  im 
mense  marble  soda  fountain  and  the  dozen  or  more 
wire-legged  tables  and  the  two  or  three  dozen  wire 
chairs  that  served  to  accommodate  the  late  after 
noon  and  evening  crowd. 

At  the  moment  the  fountain  had  but  one  patron — 
a  remarkably  fat  boy  of,  perhaps,  fifteen,  with 
plump  cheeks  and  drooping  mouth.  .  .  .  The  row 
of  windows  across  the  second  floor  front  of  the 
building,  above  Humphrey's,  bore,  each,  the  legend 
— Remington  and  Evans,  Attorneys  at  Law. 

The  fat  boy  was  Percival  Sheridan,  otherwise 
Pudge.  His  sister,  Betty  Sheridan,  worked  in  the 
law  offices  directly  overhead  and  possessed  a  heart 
of  stone. 

Betty  was  rich,  at  least  in  the  eyes  of  Pudge. 
For  more  than  a  year  (Betty  was  twenty-two)  she 
had  enjoyed  a  private  income.  Pudge  definitely 


THE  STURDY  OAK  11 

knew  this.  She  had  money  to  buy  out  the  soda 
fountain.  But  her  character,  thought  Pudge,  might 
be  summed  up  in  the  statement  that  she  worked 
when  she  didn't  have  to  (people  talked  about  this; 
even  to  him !)  and  flatly  refused  to  give  her  brother 
money  for  soda. 

As  if  a  little  soda  ever  hurt  anybody.  She  took 
it  herself,  often  enough.  Within  five  minutes  he 
had  laid  the  matter  before  her — up  in  that  solemn 
office,  where  they  made  you  feel  so  uncomfortable. 
She  had  said :  "  Pudge  Sheridan,  you're  killing 
yourself!  Not  one  cent  more  for  wrecking  your 
stomach ! " 

She  had  called  him  "  Pudge."  For  months  he 
had  been  reminding  her  that  his  name  was  Percival. 
And  he  wasn't  wrecking  his  stomach.  That  was 
silly  talk.  He  had  eaten  but  two  nut  sundaes  and 
a  chocolate  frappe  since  luncheon.  It  wasn't  soda 
and  candy  that  made  him  so  fat.  Some  folks  just 
were  fat,  and  some  folks  were  thin.  That  was  all 
there  was  to  it ! 

Pudge  himself  would  have  a  private  income  when 
he  was  twenty-one.  Six  years  off  ...  and  Billy 


12  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Simmons  in  his  white  apron,  was  waiting  now,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  marble  counter,  for  his  order 
— and  grinning  as  he  waited.  Six  years!  Why, 
Pudge  would  be  a  man  then — too  old  for  nut  sun 
daes  and  chocolate  frappes,  too  far  gone  down  the 
sober  slope  of  life  to  enjoy  anything! 

Pudge  wriggled  nervously,  locked  his  feet  around 
behind  the  legs  of  the  high  stool,  rubbed  a  fat 
forefinger  on  the  edge  of  the  counter,  and  watched 
the  finger  intently  with  gloomy  eyes. 

"  Well,  what'll  it  be,  Pudge?  "  This  from  Billy 
Simmons. 

"  My  name  ain't  Pudge." 

"Very  good,  Mister  Sheridan.    What'll  it  be?" 

"  One  of  those  chocolate  marshmallow  nut  sun 
daes,  I  guess,  if — if " 

"  If  what,  Mister  Sheridan?  " 

"—if,  oh  well,  just  charge  it." 

Billy  Simmons  paused  in  the  act  of  reaching  for 
a  sundae  glass.  The  smile  left  his  face. 

Pudge,  though  he  did  not  once  look  up  from 
that  absorbing  little  operation  with  the  fat  fore 
finger,  felt  this  pause  and  knew  that  Billy's  grin  had 


THE  STURDY  OAK  13 

gone;  and  his  own  mouth  drooped  and  drooped. 
It  was  a  tense  moment. 

"  You  see,  Pudge,"  Billy  began  in  some  embar 
rassment,  only  to  conclude  rather  sharply,  "  I'll 
have  to  ask  Mr.  Humphrey.  Your  sister  said  we 
weren't " 

"  Oh,  well !  "  sighed  Pudge.  Getting  down  from 
the  stool  he  waddled  slowly  out  of  the  store. 

It  was  no  use  going  up  against  old  Humphrey. 
He  had  tried  that.  He  went  as  far  as  the  fire-plug, 
close  to  the  corner,  and  sank  down  upon  it.  Every 
body  was  against  him.  He  would  sit  here  awhile 
and  think  it  over.  Perhaps  he  could  figure  out 
some  way  of  breaking  through  the  conspiracy. 
Then  Mr.  Martin  Jaffry  drove  up  to  the  curb  and 
he  had  to  move  his  legs.  Mr.  Jaffry  said,  "  Hello, 
Pudge,"  too.  It  was  all  deeply  annoying. 

Meantime,  during  the  past  half -hour,  the  law 
offices  of  Remington  and  Evans  were  not  lacking 
in  the  sense  of  life  and  activity.  Things  began  mov 
ing  when  Penny  Evans  (christened  Penfield)  came 
back  from  lunch.  He  wore  an  air — Betty  Sheridan 
noted,  from  her  typewriter  desk  within  the  rail — 


H  THE  STURDY  OAK 

of  determination.  His  nod  toward  herself  was  dis 
tinctly  brusque;  a  new  quality  which  gave  her  a 
moment's  thought.  And  then  when  he  had  hung 
up  his  hat  and  was  walking  past  her  to  his  own 
private  office,  he  indulged  in  a  faint,  fleeting 
grin. 

Betty  considered  him.  She  had  known  Penny 
Evans  as  long  as  she  could  remember  knowing  any 
body;  and  she  had  never  seen  him  look  quite  as  he 
looked  this  afternoon. 

The  buzzer  sounded.  It  was  absurd,  of  course; 
nobody  else  in  the  office.  He  could  have  spoken — 
you  could  hear  almost  every  sound  over  the  seven- 
foot  partitions. 

She  rose,  waited  an  instant  to  insure  perfect  com 
posure,  smoothed  down  her  trim  shirtwaist,  pushed 
back  a  straying  wisp  of  her  naturally  wavy  hair, 
picked  up  her  notebook  and  three  sharp  pencils, 
and  went  quietly  into  his  office. 

He  sat  there  at  his  flat  desk — his  blond  brows 
knit,  his  mouth  firm,  a  light  of  eager  good  humor 
in  his  blue  eyes. 

"  Take  this,"  he  said  , 


THE  STURDY  OAK  15 

Betty  seated  herself  opposite  him,  and  was  in 
stantly  ready  for  work. 

"...  Memorandum.  From  rentals — the  old 
Evans  property  on  Ash  Street,  the  two  houses  on 
Wilson  Avenue  South,  and  the  factory  lease  in  the 
South  Extension,  a  total  of  slightly  over  $3600. 

"  New  paragraph.  From  investments  in  bonds, 
railway  and  municipal,  an  average  the  last  four 
years  of  $2800. 

"  New  paragraph.  From  law  practice,  last  year, 
over  $4500.  Will  be  considerably  more  this  year. 
Total " 

"  New  paragraph  ?  " 

"No.  Continue.  Total,  $10,900.  This  year 
will  be  close  to  $12,000.  Don't  you  think  that's  a 
reasonably  good  showing  for  an  unencumbered  man 
of  twenty-seven  ?  " 

" Dictation— that  last?" 

"  No,  personal  query,  Penny  to  Betty." 

"  Yes,  then,  it  is  very  good.  You  want  this  in 
memorandum  form.  Any  carbons  ?  " 

"  One  carbon — in  the  form  of  a  diamond — gift 
from  Penny  to  Betty." 


16  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Miss  Sheridan  settled  back  in  her  chair,  tapped 
her  pretty  mouth  with  her  pencil,  and  surveyed  the 
blond  young  man.  Her  eyes  were  blue — frank, 
capable  eyes. 

"  Penny,  I  like  my  work  here " 

"  I  should  hope  so " 

"  And  I  don't  want  to  give  it  up." 

"  Then  don't." 

"  I  shall  have  to,  Penny,  if  you  don't  stop  break 
ing  your  word.  It  was  a  definite  agreement,  you 
know.  You  were  not  to  propose  to  me,  on  any 
working  day,  before  seven  P.M.  This  is  a  proposal 
of  course " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  but  I've  just " 

"That  makes  twice  this  month,  then,  that  youVe 
broken  the  agreement.  Now  I  can  go  on  and  put 
my  mind  on  my  work,  if  you'll  let  me.  Otherwise, 
I  shall  have  to  get  a  job  where  they  will  let 


me." 


"  But,  Betty,  I've  just  this  noon  sat  down  and 
figured  up  where  I  stand.  It  has  frightened  me  a 
little.  I  didn't  realize  I  was  taking  in  more  than 
ten  thousand  a  year.  And  all  of  a  sudden  it  struck 


THE  STURDY  OAK  17 

me  that  I've  been  an  imbecile  to  wait,  or  make  any 
agreement " 

"Then  you  broke  it  deliberately?" 

"Absolutely.  Betty — no  fooling  now;  I'm  in 
earnest " 

Studying  him,  she  saw  that  he  was  intensely  in 
earnest. 

"  You  see,  child,  I've  tried  to  be  patient  because 
I  know  how  you  were  brought  up,  what  you're 
used  to.  Why,  I  wouldn't  dream  of  asking  you  to 
be  my  wife  unless  I  could  feel  pretty  sure  of 
being  able  to  give  you  the  comforts  you've 
always  had  and  ought  to  have.  But  hang  it, 
Betty,  I  can  do  it  right!  I  can  give  you  a 
home  that's  worthy  of  you.  Any  time!  This 
year,  even ! " 

"  Penny,  do  you  think  I  care  what  your  income 
is — for  one  minute  ?  " 

«  Why— why " 

"  When  I'm  earning  twenty  dollars  a  week  my 
self  and  prouder  of  it  than " 

"  But  that's  absurd,  Betty — for  you  to  be  work 
ing — as  a  stenographer,  of  all  things !  A  girl  with 


18  THE  STURDY  OAK 

your  looks  and  your  gifts  and  all  that's  back  of 
you." 

"You  mean  that  I  should  make  marriage  my 
profession?  " 

"  Well— well " 

"  Probably  that's  why  we  keep  missing  each  other, 
Penny.  I've  pinned  my  flag  to  the  principle  of 
economic  independence.  You're  looking  for  a  girl 
who  will  marry  for  a  living.  There  are  lots  of 
them.  Pretty,  attractive  girls,  too.  Your  difficulty 
is,  you  want  that  sort.  You  really  believe  all  girls 
are  that  sort  at  heart,  and  you  think  my  independ 
ence  a  fad — something  I  shall  get  over.  Don't  you, 
now?" 

"  Well,  I'll  confess  I  can't  see  it  as  the  normal 
thing.  Yes,  I  believe — I  hope — you  will  get  over 
it." 

"  Well — "  Miss  Sheridan  slammed  her  book 
shut  and  stood  up — "  I  won't." 

She  stepped  to  the  door. 

"  And.  the  agreement  stands.  I  want  to  keep  on 
working.  And  I  want  to  keep  on  being  fond  of 
you.  That  agreement  is  necessary  to  both  desires." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  19 

She  opened  the  door,  hesitated  and  a  hint  of 
mischief  flashed  across  her  face.  "  I'll  tell  you  just 
the  person  for  you,  Penny.  Really.  Marriage  is 
her  profession.  She's  very  experienced.  Tempo 
rarily  out  of  a  job — Alys  Brewster-Smith." 

He  snatched  a  carnation  from  the  glass  on  his 
desk  and  threw  it  at  her.  It  struck  a  closed  door. 

The  outer  door  opened  just  then,  and  Mr.  Martin 
Jaffry  stepped  in.  He  nodded,  with  his  little  quiz 
zical  smile,  to  the  composed  young  woman  who 
stood  within  the  railing. 

"Anybody  here,  Betty ?" 

A  slight  movement  of  her  prettily  poised  head  in 
dicated  the  door  marked  "  Mr.  Evans."  And  she 
said,  "  Penny's  there." 

"  Is  he  shut  up,  too  ?  His  partner  is  too  impor 
tant  to  be  seen  today." 

"  Oh  no,"  Betty  replied,  inscrutably  sober,  "  he's 
not  important." 

Mr.  Jaffry  wrinkled  up  his  eyes,  chuckled  softly, 
then  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  unimportant  one. 
Before  opening  it,  he  turned. 


20  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Mrs.  Harvey  Herrington  been  in  ?  " 

"  Twice  with  a  committee." 

"  Any  idea  what  she  wanted  ?  " 

Betty  was  aware  that  the  whimsical  and  round 
about  Mr.  Jaffry  knew  everything  about  everybody 
in  Whitewater.  She  was  further  aware  that  he  had, 
undoubtedly,  reasons  of  his  own  for  questioning  her. 
He  was  always  asking  questions,  anyway.  Worse 
than  a  Chinaman.  And  for  some  reason — perhaps 
because  he  was  Martin  Jaffry — you  always  answered 
his  questions. 

"  Yes,"  said  Betty.  "  She  wants  to  pledge  him 
to  suffrage." 

"  Umm !  Yes,  I  see !  You  wouldn't  be  against 
that  yourself,  would  you?  " 

"  Naturally  not.  I'm  secretary  of  the  Second 
Ward  Suffrage  Club." 

"  Umm !  Yes,  yes !  "  With  which  illuminating 
comment,  Mr.  Jaffry  tapped  on  Penny  Evans'  door, 
opened  it  and  entered. 

"  Spare  a  minute  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Sure,"  said  Penny ;  "  two,  ten !     Take  a  chair." 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Jaffry,  "  I  won't  take  a  chair. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  21 

Think  better  on  my  feet.  I'm  in  a  bit  of  a  quan 
dary.  Suppose  you  tell  me  what  this  important 
paper  is  that  George  is  drawing  up.  Do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  Is  he  coming  out  against  suffrage  ?  " 

"  Flatly." 

"  Umm !  "  Mr.  Jaffry  flicked  his  cap  about.  "  I 
want  to  see  George.  He  mustn't  do  that." 

"  Say,  Mr.  Jaffry,  you  haven't  swung  over " 

"  Not  at  all.    It's  tactics.    I  ought  to  see  him." 

"  Why  not  run  out  to  his  house " 

"  Just  been  there.  Ran  away.  Some  one  there 
I'm  afraid  of." 

"Telephone?" 

Mr.  Jaffry  shook  his  head  and  lowered  his  voice. 

"  With  Betty  hearing  it  at  this  end,  and  the  com 
mittee  from  the  Antis  sitting  it  out  down  there-:- 
the  telephone's  on  the  stair  landing " 

He  pursed  his  lips,  waved  his  cap  slowly  to  and 
fro  and  observed  it  with  a  whimsical  expression 
on  his  sandy  face,  then  glanced  out  of  the  window. 
He  stepped  closer,  looking  sharply  down.  A  very 
fat  boy  with  pink  cheeks  and  a  downcast  expression 


22  THE  STURDY  OAK 

was   sitting   on   a   fire-plug.      Mr.    Jaffry   leaned 
out. 

"  Pudge,"  he  called,  "  come  up  here  a  minute." 

On  the  Remington  and  Evans  stationery  he  pen 
ciled  a  note,  which  he  sealed.  Then  he  scribbled 
another — to  Mrs.  George  Remington,  asking  her 
to  hand  George  the  inclosure  the  moment  he  ap 
peared  from  his  work.  The  two  he  slipped  into  a 
large  envelope.  The  very  fat  boy  stood  before  him. 

"  Want  to  make  a  quarter,  Pudge  ?  Take  this 
letter,  right  now,  to  Mrs.  George  Remington.  Give 
it  to  her  personally.  It's  the  old  Remington  place, 
you  know." 

He  felt  in  his  change  pocket.  It  was  empty.  He 
hesitated,  turned  to  Evans,  then,  reconsidering,  pro 
duced  a  dollar  bill  from  another  pocket  and  gave  it 
to  the  boy. 

"  Now  run,"  he  said. 

The  boy,  speechless,  turned  and  moved  out  of  the 
office.  His  sister  spoke  to  him,  but  he  did  not  turn 
his  head.  He  rolled  down  the  stairs  to  the  street, 
stood  a  moment  in  front  of  Humphrey's,  drew  a 
sudden  breath  that  was  almost  a  gasp,  waddled  into 


THE  STURDY  OAK  23 

the  store,  advanced  directly  on  the  soda  fountain, 
and  with  a  blazing  red  face  and  angrily  triumphant 
eyes  confronted  Billy  Simmons. 

"  I'll  take  a  chocolate  marshmallow  nut  sundae/' 
he  said.  "And  you  needn't  be  stingy  with  the 
marshmallow,  either ! " 

At  ten  minutes  past  four,  the  anxious  Antis  in 
the  Remington  living-room  heard  the  candidate  for 
district  attorney  running  down  the  stairs,  and  even 
Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  was  hushed.  The  candidate 
stopped,  however,  on  the  landing.  They  heard  him 
lift  the  telephone  receiver.  He  called  a  number. 
Then 

"Sentinel  office?  .  .  .  Mr.  Ledbetter,  please. 
.  .  .  Hello,  Ledbetter!  Remington  speaking.  I 
have  that  statement  ready.  Will  you  send  a  man 
around  ?  .  .  .  Yes,  right  away.  And  I  wish  you'd 
put  it  on  the  wires.  Display  it  just  as  prominently 
as  you  can,  won't  you?  .  .  .  Thanks.  That's 
fine !  Good-by." 

He  ran  back  upstairs. 

But  shortly  he  appeared,  wearing  the  distrait, 


24  THE  STURDY  OAK 

exalted  expression  of  the  genius  who  has  just  passed 
through  the  creative  act.  He  looked  very  tall  and 
strong  as  he  stood  before  the  mantel,  receiving  the 
congratulations  of  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  and  the 
timid  admiration  of  Cousin  Emelene.  His  few 
words  were  well  chosen  and  were  uttered  with 
dignity. 

"  And  now,  dear  Mr.  Remington,  I'm  sure  I  don't 
need  to  ask  you  if  you  are  taking  the  right  stand 
on  suffrage."  This  from  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith. 

The  candidate  smiled  tolerantly. 

"  If  unequivocal  opposition  is  '  right ' " 

"  Oh,  you  dear  man !  I  was  sure  we  could  count 
on  you.  Isn't  it  splendid,  Genevieve !  " 

The  reporters  came. 

It  was  a  busy  evening  for  the  young  couple. 
There  were  relatives  for  dinner.  Other  relatives 
and  an  old  friend  or  two  came  later.  Throughout, 
George  wore  that  quietly  exalted  expression,  and 
carried  himself  with  the  new  dignity. 

To  the  adoring  Genevieve  his  chin  had  never 
appeared  so  long  and  strong,  his  thought  had 


THE  STURDY  OAK  25 

never  seemed  so  elevated,  his  quiet  self-respect  had 
never  been  so  commanding.  He  was  no  longer 
merely  her  George,  he  was  now  a  public  figure. 
Soon  he  would  be  district  attorney;  then,  very 
likely,  Governor ;  then — well,  Senator ;  and  finally — 
it  was  possible — some  one  had  to  be — President  of 
the  United  States.  He  had  begun,  this  day,  by 
making  a  great  decision,  by  stepping  boldly  out  on 
principle,  on  moral  principle,  and  announcing  him 
self  a  defender  of  the  home,  of  the  right. 

At  midnight,  the  last  guest  departed.  George 
and  Genevieve  stepped  out  into  the  summer  moon 
light  and  strolled  arm  in  arm  down  the  walk. 

Waddling  up  the  street  appeared  a  very  fat  boy. 

"  Why,  Pudge,"  cried  Genevieve,  "  what  on  earth 
are  you  doing  out  at  this  time  of  night !  " 

"  I'm  going  home,  I  tell  you !  "  muttered  the  boy, 
on  the  defensive.  He  carried  a  large  bag  of  what 
seemed  to  be  chocolate  creams,  from  which  he  was 
eating. 

As  he  passed,  a  twinge  of  memory  disturbed 
him.  He  fumbled  in  his  pockets. 

"  I  was  to  give  you  this,"  he  said  then;  and  leav- 


26  THE  STURDY  OAK 

ing  a  crumpled  envelope  in  Genevieve's  hand,  he 
walked  on  as  rapidly  as  he  could. 

A  few  minutes  later,  standing  under  the  light  in 
the  front  hall,  George  Remington  read  this  penciled 
note: 

"  I  stood  ready  to  contribute  more  than  I  prom 
ised — any  amount  to  put  you  over.  But  if  you  give 
out  a  statement  against  suffrage  you're  a  damn  fool 
and  I  withdraw  every  cent.  A  man  with  no  more 
political  sense  and  skill  than  that  isn't  worth  help 
ing.  You  should  have  advised  me. 

"M.J." 


CHAPTER  II 
BY  HARRY  LEON  WILSON 

IT  may  have  been  surmised  that  our  sterling 
young  candidate  for  district  attorney  had  not  yet 
become  skilled  in  dalliance  with  the  equivocal;  that 
he  was  no  adept  in  ambiguity;  that  he  would  con 
front  all  issues  with  a  rugged  valiance  susceptible 
of  no  misconstruction;  that,  in  short,  George  Rem 
ington  was  no  trimmer. 

If  he  opposed  an  issue,  one  knew  that  he  opposed 
it  from  the  heart  out.  He  said  so  and  he  meant  it. 
And,  being  opposed  to  the  dreadful  heresy  of  equal 
suffrage,  no  reader  of  the  Whitewater  Sentinel  that 
morning  could  say,  as  the  shrewd  so  often  say  of 
our  older  statesmen,  that  George  was  "side-step 
ping." 

Not  George's  the  mellow  gift  to  say,  in  effect, 
that  of  course  woman  should  vote  the  instant  she 
wishes  to,  though  perhaps  that  day  has  not  yet 

27 


28  THE  STURDY  OAK 

come.  Meantime  the  speaker  boldly  defies  the 
world  to  show  a  man  holding  woman  in  loftier  re 
gard  than  he  does,  or  ready  to  accord  her  a  higher 
value  in  all  true  functions  of  the  body  politic. 
Equal  suffrage,  thank  God,  is  inevitable  at  some 
future  time,  but  until  that  glorious  day  when  we 
can  be  assured  that  the  sex  has  united  in  a  demand 
for  it,  it  were  perhaps  as  well  not  to  cloud  the 
issues  of  the  campaign  now  opening;  though  let  it 
be  understood,  and  he  cannot  put  this  too  plainly, 
that  he  reveres  the  memory  of  his  gray-haired 
mother  without  whose  tender  ministrations  and  wise 
guidance  he  could  never  have  reached  the  height 
from  which  he  now  speaks.  And  so  let  us  pass  on 
to  the  voting  on  these  canal  bonds,  the  true  inward 
ness  of  which,  thanks  to  the  venal  activities  of  a 
corrupt  opposition,  even  an  exclusively  male  con 
stituency  has  thus  far  failed  to  comprehend.  And 
so  forth. 

Our  hero,  then,  had  yet  to  acquire  this  finesse. 
As  we  are  now  privileged  to  observe  him,  he  is  as 
easy  to  understand  as  the  multiplication  table,  as 
little  devious  and,  alas!  as  lacking  in  suavity. 


•  THE  STURDY  OAK  29 

Yet,  let  us  be  fair  to  George.  Mere  innocence 
of  guile,  of  verbal  trickery,  had  not  alone  sufficed 
for  his  passionate  bluntness  in  the  present  crisis. 
At  a  later  stage  in  his  career  as  a  husband  he  might 
have  been  equally  blunt;  yet  never  again,  perhaps, 
would  he  have  been  so  emotional  in  his  opposition 
to  woman  polluting  herself  with  the  mire  of  politics. 

Be  it  recalled  that  but  five  weeks  had  elapsed 
since  George  had  solemnly  promised  to  cherish  and 
protect  the  fairest  of  the  non-voting  sex — at  least 
in  his  State — and  he  was  still  taking  his  mission 
seriously.  As  he  wrote  the  words  that  were  now 
electrifying,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  the  readers 
of  the  Sentinel,  and  of  neighboring  journals  with 
enough  enterprise  to  secure  them,  he  had  beheld 
his  own  Genevieve,  fine,  flawless,  tenderly  nourished 
flower  that  she  was,  being  dragged  from  her  high 
place  with  the  most  distressing  results. 

He  saw  her  rushed  from  the  sacred  shelter  of  her 
home  and  made  to  attend  primaries;  he  saw  her 
compelled  to  strive  tearfully  with  problems  that  re 
volted  all  her  finer  instincts;  he  saw  her  insulted  at 
polling  booths;  saw  her  voting  in  company  with 


30  THE  STURDY  OAK 

persons  of  both  sexes  whom  one  could  never  know. 

He  saw  her  tainted,  bruised,  beaten  down  in  the 
struggle,  losing  little  by  little  all  sense  of  the  holy 
values  of  Wife,  Mother,  Home.  As  he  wrote  he 
heard  her  weakening  cries  for  help  as  she  perished, 
and  more  than  once  his  left  arm  instinctively  curved 
to  shield  her. 

Was  it  not  for  his  wife,  then;  nay,  for  wifehood 
itself,  that  he  wrote  ?  And  so,  was  it  quite  fair  for 
unmarried  Penfield  Evans,  burning  at  his  breakfast 
table  a  cynical  cigarette  over  the  printed  philippic, 
to  murmur,  "  Gee !  old  George  has  spilled  the 
beans!" 

Simple  words  enough  and  not  devoid  of  friendly 
concern.  But  should  he  not  have  divined  that 
George  had  been  appalled  to  his  extremities  of 
speech  by  the  horrendous  vision  of  his  fair  young 
bride  being  hurled  into  depths  where  she  would  be 
obliged,  if  not  to  have  opinions  of  her  own,  at 

least  to  vote  with  the  rabble  as  he  might  decide  they 
& ''.  i 

ought  to  vote? 
r 

And  should  not  other  critics  known  to  us  have 

divined  the  racking  anguish  under  which  George 


THE  STURDY  OAK  31 

had  labored?  For  one,  should  not  Elizabeth 
Sheridan,  amateur  spinster,  have  been  all  sympathy 
for  one  who  was  palpably  more  an  alarmed  bride 
groom  than  a  mere  candidate? 

Should  not  her  maiden  heart  have  been  touched 
by  this  plausible  aspect  of  George's  dilemma,  rather 
than  her  mere  brain  to  have  been  steeled  to  a  humor 
ous  disparagement  tinged  with  bitterness? 

And  yet,  "What  rot!"  muttered  Miss  Sheridan, 
— "  silly  rot,  bally  rot,  tommy  rot,  and  all  the  other 
kinds!" 

Hereupon  she  creased  a  brow  not  meant  for 
creases  and  defaced  an  admirable  nose  with  grievous 
wrinkles  of  disdain.  "  Sacred  names  of  wife  and 
mother ! "  This  seemed  regrettably  like  swearing 
as  she  delivered  it,  though  she  quoted  verbatim. 
"  Sacred  names  of  petted  imbeciles !  "  she  amended. 

Then,  with  berserker  fury,  crumpling  her  Sentinel 
into  a  ball,  she  venomously  hurled  it  to  the  depths 
of  a  waste  basket  and  religiously  rubbed  the  feel 
of  it  from  her  fingers.  As  she  had  not  even  glanced 
at  the  column  headed  "  Births,  Deaths,  Marriages/' 
it  will  be  seen  that  her  agitation  was  real. 


32  THE  STURDY  OAK 

And  surely  a  more  discerning  sympathy  might 
have  been  looked  for  from  the  seasoned  Martin 
Jaffry.  A  bachelor  full  of  years  and  therefore 
with  illusions  not  only  unimpaired  but  ripened,  who 
more  quickly  than  he  should  have  divined  that  his 
nephew  for  the  moment  viewed  all  womankind  as 
but  one  multiplied  Genevieve,  upon  whom  it  would 
be  heinous  to  place  the  shackles  of  suffrage? 

Perhaps  Uncle  Martin  did  divine  this.  Perhaps 
he  was  a  mere  trimmer,  a  rank  side-stepper,  steeped 
in  deceit  and  ever  ready  to  mouth  the  abominable 
phrase  "  political  expediency."  It  were  rash  to 
affirm  this,  for  no  analyst  has  ever  fathomed  the 
heart  of  a  man  who  has  come  to  his  late  forties  a 
bachelor  by  choice.  One  may  but  guess  from  the 
ensuing  meager  data. 

Uncle  Martin  at  a  certain  corner  of  Maple  Avenue 
that  morning,  fell  in  with  Penfield  Evans,  who, 
clad  as  the  lilies  of  a  florist's  window,  strode  buoy 
antly  toward  his  office,  the  vision  of  his  day's  toil 
pinkly  suffused  by  an  overlaying  vision  of  a  Betty 
or  Sheridan  character.  Mr.  Evans  bubbled  his 
greeting. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  33 

"  Morning !  Have  you  seen  it  ?  Oh,  say,  have 
you  seen  it?  " 

The  immediate  manner  of  Uncle  Martin  not  less 

( than  his  subdued  garb  of  gray,  his  dark  gloves  and 
i 
his  somber  stick,  intimated  that  he  saw  nothing  to 

bubble  about. 

"  He  has  burned  his  bridges  behind  him."  The 
speaker  looked  as  grim  as  any  bachelor-by-choice 
ever  may. 

"  Regular  little  fire-bug,'*  blithely  responded  Mr. 
Evans,  moderating  his  stride  to  that  of  the  other. 

"  Can't  understand  it,"  resumed  the  gloomy 
uncle.  "  I  sent  him  word  in  time ;  sent  it  from  your 
office  by  messenger.  It  was  plain  enough.  I  told 
him  no  money  of  mine  would  go  into  his  campaign 
if  he  made  a  fool  of  himself — or  words  to  that 
effect." 

r 

"  Phew !  Cast  you  off,  did  he  ?  Just  like  that  ?  " 
"  Just  like  that !  Went  out  of  his  way  to  overdo 
it,  too.  Needn't  have  come  out  half  so  strong.  No 
chance  now  to  backwater — not  a  chance  on  earth 
to  explain  what  he  really  did  mean — and  make  it 
something  different." 


34  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Quixotic !    That's  how  it  reads  to  me." 
7     Uncle  Martin  here  became  oracular,  his  somber 
stick  gesturing  to  point  his  words. 

"  Trouble  with  poor  George,  he's  been  silly 
enough  to  blurt  out  the  truth,  what  every  man  of  us 

thinks  in  his  heart— — " 
(\ 

"  Eh?  "  said  Mr.  Evans  quickly,  as  one  who  has 
been  jolted. 

"  No  more  sense  than  to  come  right  out  and 
say  what  every  one  of  us  thinks  in  his  secret  heart 
about  women.  I  think  it  and  you  think  it " 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  put  it  that  way,"  admitted 
•  young  Mr.  Evans  gracefully.  "  But  of  course " 

"Certainly,  of  course!  We  all  think  it — sacred 
names  of  home  and  mother  and  all  the  rest  of  it; 
but  a  man  running  for  office  these  days  is  a  chump 
to  say  so,  isn't  he?  Of  course  he  is!  What  chance 
does  it  leave  him?  Answer  me  that." 

"  Darned  little,  if  you  ask  me,"  said  Mr.  Evans 
judicially.  "  Poor  old  George !  " 

"Talks  as  if  he  were  going  to  be  married  to 
morrow  instead  of  its  having  come  off  five  weeks 
ago,"  pursued  Uncle  Martin  bitterly. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  35 

Plainly  there  were  depths  of  understanding  in 
the  man,  trimmer  though  he  might  be. 

Mr.  Evans  made  no  reply.  Irrationally  he  was 
considering  the  terms  "  five  weeks  "  and  "  married  " 
in  relation  to  a  spinster  who  would  have  professed 
to  be  indignant  had  she  known  it. 

"  Got  to  pull  the  poor  devil  out,"  said  Uncle 
Martin,  when  in  silence  they  had  traversed  fifty 
feet  more  of  the  shaded  side  of  Maple  Avenue. 

"  How  ? "  demanded  the  again  practical  Mr. 
Evans. 

"  Make  him  take  it  back ;  make  him  recant ;  swing 
him  over  the  last  week  before  election.  Make  him 
eat  his  words  with  every  sign  of  exquisite  relish. 
Simple  enough !  " 

"How?"  persisted  Mr.  Evans. 

"Wiles,  tricks,  subterfuges,  chicanery — under 
stand  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Sure !  I  understand  what  you  mean  as  well  as 
you  do,  but — come  down  to  brass  tacks." 

"  That's  an  entirely  different  matter,"  conceded 
Uncle  Martin  gruffly.  "  It  may  take  thought." 

"Oh,  is  that  all?     Very  well  then;  we'll  think. 


36  THE  STURDY  OAK 

I,  myself,  will  think.  First,  I'll  have  a  talk  with  the 
sodden  amorist.  I'll  grill  him.  I'll  find  the  weak 
spot  in  his  armor.  There  must  be  something  we 
can  put  over  on  him." 

"  By  fair  means  or  foul,"  insisted  Uncle  Martin 
as  they  paused  at  the  parting  of  their  ways.  "  Low- 
down,  underhanded  work  —  do  you  get  what  I 
mean?" 

"  I  do,  I  do !  "  declared  young  Mr.  Evans  and 
broke  once  more  into  the  buoyant  stride  of  an 
earlier  moment.  This  buoyance  was  interrupted 
but  once,  and  briefly,  ere  he  gained  the  haven  of 
his  office. 

As  he  stepped  quite  too  buoyantly  into  Fountain 
Square,  he  was  all  but  run  down  by  the  new  six- 
cylinder  roadster  of  Mrs.  Harvey  Herrington, 
driven  by  the  enthusiastic  owner.  He  regained  the 
curb  in  time,  with  a  ready  and  heartfelt  utterance 
nicely  befitting  the  emergency. 

The  president  of  the  Whitewater  Women's  Club, 
the  Municipal  League  and  the  Suffrage  Society, 
brought  her  toy  to  a  stop  fifteen  feet  beyond  her 
too  agile  quarry,  with  a  fine  disregard  for  brakes 


THE  STURDY  OAK  37 

and  tire  surfaces.  She  beckoned  eagerly  to  him 
she  might  have  slain.  She  was  a  large  woman  with 
an  air  of  graceful  but  resolute  authority;  a  woman 
good  to  look  upon,  attired  with  all  deference  to  the 
modes  of  the  moment,  and  exhaling  an  agreeable 
sense  of  good-will  to  all. 

"  Be  careful  always  to  look  before  you  start 
across  and  you'll  never  have  to  say  such  things," 
was  her  greeting  to  Mr.  Evans,  as  he  halted  beside 
this  minor  juggernaut. 

"  Sorry  you  heard  it,"  lied  the  young  man  readily. 

"  Such  a  flexible  little  car — picks  up  before  one 
realizes,"  conceded  Whitewater's  acknowledged 
social  dictator.  "  But  what  I  wanted  to  say  is  this : 
that  poor  daft  partner  of  yours  has  mortally 
offended  every  woman  in  town  except  three,  with 
that  silly  screed  of  his.  I've  seen  nearly  all  of  them 
that  count  this  morning,  or  they've  called  me  by 
telephone.  Now,  why  couldn't  he  have  had  the 
advice  of  some  good,  capable  woman  before  com 
mitting  himself  so  rabidly?" 

"Who  were  the  three?"  queried  Mr.  Evans. 

"Oh,  poor  Genevieve,  of  course;  she  goes  with- 


38  THE  STURDY  OAK 

out  saying.  And  you'd  guess  the  other  two  if  you 
knew  them  better — his  cousin,  Alys  Brewster-Smith, 
and  poor  Genevieve's  Cousin  Emelene.  They  both 
have  his  horrible  school-boy  composition  committed 
to  memory,  I  do  believe. 

"  Cousin  Emelene  recited  most  of  it  to  me  with 
tears  in  her  weak  eyes,  and  Alys  tells  me  his  noble 
words  have  made  the  world  seem  like  a  different 
place  to  her.  She  said  she  had  been  coming  to  be 
lieve  that  chivalry  of  the  old  true  brand  was  dying 
out,  but  that  dear  Cousin  George  has  renewed  her 
faith  in  it. 

"  Think  of  poor  Genevieve  when  they  both  fall 
on  his  neck.  They're  going  up  for  that  particular 
purpose  this  afternoon.  The  only  two  in  town,  mind 
you,  except  poor  Genevieve.  Oh,  it's  too  awfully 
bad,  because  aside  from  this  medieval  view  of  his, 
George  was  probably  as  acceptable  for  this  office 
as  any  man  could  be." 

The  lady  burdened  the  word  "  man  "  with  a  tiny 
but  distinguishable  emphasis.  Mr.  Evans  chose  to 
ignore  this. 

"  George's  friends  are  going  to  take  him  in  hand," 


THE  STURDY  OAK  39 

said  he.  "  Of  course  he  was  foolish  to  come  out 
the  way  he  has,  even  if  he  did  say  only  what  every 
man  believes  in  his  secret  heart." 

The  president  of  the  Whitewater  Woman's  Club 
fixed  him  with  a  glittering  and  suddenly  hostile  eye. 

"  What !  you  too  ?  "  she  flung  at  him.  He  caught 
himself.  He  essayed  explanations,  modifications,  a 
better  lighting  of  the  thing.  But  at  the  expiration 
of  his  first  blundering  sentence  Mrs.  Herrington, 
with  her  flexible  little  car,  was  narrowly  missing 
an  aged  and  careless  pedestrian  fifty  yards  down 
the  street. 

"  George  come  in  yet  ?  " 

For  the  second  time  Mr.  Evans  was  demanding 
this  of  Miss  Elizabeth  Sheridan  who  had  also 
ignored  his  preliminary  "  Good  morning !  " 

Now  for  a  moment  more  she  typed  viciously. 
One  would  have  said  that  the  thriving  legal  business 
of  Remington  and  Evans  required  the  very  swift 
completion  of  the  document  upon  which  she 
wrought.  And  one  would  have  been  grossly  de 
ceived.  The  sheet  had  been  drawn  into  the  ma- 


40  THE  STURDY  OAK 

chine  at  the  moment  Mr.  Evans*  buoyant  step  had 
been  heard  in  the  outer  hall,  and  upon  it  was  merely 
written  a  dozen  times  the  bald  assertion,  "  Now  is 
the  time  for  all  good  men  to  come  to  the  aid  of 
the  party/' 

Actually  it  was  but  the  mechanical  explosion  of 
the  performer's  mood,  rather  than  the  wording  of 
a  sentiment  now  or  at  any  happier  time  entertained 
by  her. 

At  last  she  paused ;  she  sullenly  permitted  herself 
to  be  interrupted.  Her  hands  still  hovered  above 
the  already  well-punished  keys  of  the  typewriter. 
She  glanced  over  a  shoulder  at  Mr.  Evans  and 
allowed  him  to  observe  her  annoyance  at  the  inter 
ruption. 

"  George  has  not  come  in  yet,"  she  said  coldly. 
"  I  don't  think  he  will  ever  come  in  again.  I  don't 
see  how  he  can  have  the  face  to.  I  shouldn't  think 
he  could  ever  show  himself  on  the  street  again  after 
that— that " 

The  young  woman's  emotion  overcame  her  at 
this  point.  Again  her  relentless  fingers  stung  the 
blameless  mechanism — "  to  come  to  the  aid  of  the 


THE  STURDY  OAK  41 

party.  Now  is  the  time  for  all  good — "  She  here 
controlled  herself  to  further  speech.  "  And  you! 
Of  course  you  applaud  him  for  it.  Oh,  I  knew  you 
were  all  alike!" 

"  Now  look  here,  Betty,  this  thing  has  gone  far 
enough " 

"  Far  enough,  indeed !  " 

"  But  you  won't  give  me  a  chance !  " 

Mr.  Evans  here  bent  above  his  employee  in  a 
threatening  manner. 

"  You  don't  even  ask  what  I  think  about  it. 
You  say  I'm  guilty  and  ought  to  be  shot  without  a 
trial — not  even  waiting  till  sunrise.  If  you  had  the 
least  bit  of  fairness  in  your  heart  you'd  have  asked 
me  what  I  really  thought  about  this  outbreak  of 
George's,  and  I'd  have  told  you  in  so  many  words 
that  I  think  he's  made  all  kinds  of  a  fool  of 
himself." 

"No!    Do  you  really,  Pen?" 

Miss  Sheridan  had  swiftly  become  human.  She 
allowed  her  eyes  to  meet  those  of  Mr.  Evans' 
with  an  easy  gladness  but  little  known  to  him  of 
late. 


42  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Betty.  The  idea  of  a  candi 
date  for  office  in  this  enlightened  age  breaking  loose 
in  that  manner !  It's  suicide.  He  could  be  arrested 
for  the  attempt  in  this  State.  Is  that  strong  enough 
for  you?  You  surely  know  how  I  feel  now,  don't 
you  ?  Come  on,  Betty  dear !  Let's  not  spar  in  that 
foolish  way  any  longer.  Remember  all  I  said  yes 
terday.  It  goes  double  today — really,  I  see  things 
more  clearly." 

Plainly  Miss  Sheridan  was  disarmed. 

"  And  I  thought  you'd  approve  every  word  of 
his  silly  tirade,"  she  murmured.  Mr.  Evans,  still 
above  her,  was  perilously  shaken  by  the  softer  note 
in  her  voice,  but  he  controlled  himself  in  time  and 
sat  in  one  of  the  chairs  reserved  for  waiting  clients. 
It  was  near  Miss  Sheridan,  yet  beyond  reaching 
distance.  He  felt  that  he  must  be  cool  in  this  mo 
ment  of  impending  triumph. 

"Wasn't  it  the  awfullest  rot?"  demanded  the 
spinster,  pounding  out  a  row  of  periods  for  em 
phasis. 

"  And  he's  got  to  be  made  to  eat  his  words," 
said  Mr.  Evans,  wisely  taking  the  same  by-path 


THE  STURDY  OAK  43 

away  from  the  one  subject  in  all  the  world  that 
really  mattered. 

"Who  could  make  him?" 

"  I  could,  if  I  tried."  It  came  in  quiet,  masterful 
tones  that  almost  convinced  the  speaker  himself. 

"Oh,  Pen,  if  you  could!  Wouldn't  that  be  a 
victory,  though?  If  you  only  could " 

"Well,  if  I  only  could—and  if  I  do?  "  His  in 
tention  was  too  pointed  to  be  ignored. 

"  Oh,  that! "  He  winced  at  the  belittling  "  that." 
"  Of  course  I  couldn't  promise — anyway  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  could  ever  do  it,  so  what's  the  use  of  being 
silly?" 

"  But  you  will — will  you  promise,  if  I  do  convert 
George  ?  Answer  the  question,  please ! "  Mr. 
Evans  glared  as  only  actual  district  attorneys  have 
the  right  to. 

"  Oh,  what  nonsense — but,  well,  I'll  promise — 
I'll  promise  to  promise  to  think  very  seriously  about 
it  indeed,  if  you  bring  George  around." 

"  Betty !  "  It  was  the  voice  of  an  able  pleader 
and  he  half  arose  from  his  chair,  his  arms  eloquent 
of  purpose. 


44  THE  STURDY  OAK 

" '  Now  is  the  time  for  all  good  men  to  come  to 

the  aid  of  the  party.  Now  is  the  time  for  * " 

wrote  Miss  Sheridan  with  dazzling  fingers,  and  the 
pleader  resumed  his  seat. 

"  How  will  you  bring  him  'round,"  she  then  de 
manded. 

"  Wiles,  tricks,  stratagems,"  replied  the  rising 
young  diplomat  moodily,  smarting  under  the  mo 
ment's  defeat. 

"  Serve  him  right  for  pulling  all  that  old-fash 
ioned  nonsense,"  said  Miss  Sheridan,  and  accorded 
her  employer  a  glance  in  which  admiration  for  his 
prowess  was  not  half  concealed. 

"  The  words  of  a  fool  wise  in  his  own  folly," 
went  on  the  encouraged  Mr.  Evans,  and  then,  alas ! 
a  victim  to  the  slight  oratorical  thrill  these  words 
brought  him, — "  honestly  uttering  what  every  last 
man  believes  and  feels  about  woman  in  his  heart 
and  yet  what  no  sane  man  running  for  office  can 
say  in  public — here,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

The  latter  clause  had  been  evoked  by  the  sight 
of  a  blazing  Miss  Sheridan,  who  now  stood  over 
/*  him  with  fists  tightly  clenched. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  45 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh !  "  This  was  low,  tense,  thrilling. 
It  expressed  horror.  "  So  that's  what  your  convic 
tions  amount  to!  Then  you  do  applaud  him,  every 
word  of  him,  and  you  were  deceiving  me.  Every 
man  in  his  own  heart,  indeed.  Thank  heaven  I 
found  you  out  in  time !  " 

It  may  be  said  that  Mr.  Evans  now  cowered  in 
his  chair.  The  term  is  not  too  violent.  He  ven 
tured  to  lift  a  hand  in  weak  protest. 

"  No,  no,  Betty,  you  are  being  unjust  to  me 
again.  I  meant  that  that  was  what  Martin  Jaffry 
told  me  this  morning.  It  isn't  what  I  believe  at  all. 
I  tell  you  my  own  deepest  sentiments  are  exactly 
what  yours  are  in  this  great  cause  which — 
which " 

Painfully  he  became  aware  of  his  own  futility. 
Miss  Sheridan  had  ceased  to  blaze.  Seated  again 
before  the  typewriter  she  grinned  at  him  with 
amused  incredulity. 

"  You  nearly  had  me  going,  Pen." 

Mr.  Evans  summoned  the  deeper  resources  of 
his  manhood  and  achieved  an  easier  manner.  He 
brazenly  returned  her  grin. 


46  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  I'll  have  you  going  again  before  I'm  through — 
remember  that." 

"  By  wiles,  tricks  and  stratagems,  I  suppose." 

"  The  same.  By  those  I  shall  make  poor  George 
recant,  and  by  those,  assuming  you  to  be  a  woman 
with  a  fine  sense  of  honor  who  will  hold  a  promise 
sacred,  I  shall  have  you  going.  And,  mark  my 
words,  you'll  be  going  good,  too !  " 

"Silly!" 

She  drew  from  the  waste  basket  the  maltreated 
Sentinel,  unfurled  it  to  expose  the  offending  matter, 
and  smote  the  column  with  the  backs  of  four  accus 
ing  fingers. 

"  There,  my  dear,  is  your  answer.  Now  run 
along  like  a  good  boy." 

"  Silly !  "  said  Mr.  Evans,  striving  for  a  masterly 
finish  to  the  unequal  combat.  He  arose,  dissembling 
cheerful  confidence,  straightened  the  frame  of  a 
steel-engraved  Daniel  Webster  on  the  wall,  and 
thrice  paced  the  length  of  the  room,  falsely  ap 
pearing  to  be  engaged  in  deep  thought. 

Miss  Sheridan,  apparently  for  mere  exclamatory 
purposes,  now  reread  the  fulmination  of  the  absent 


THE  STURDY  OAK  47 

partner.  She  scoffed,  she  sneered,  flouted,  derided, 
and  one  understood  that  she  was  including  both 
members  of  the  firm.  Then  her  listener  became 
aware  that  she  had  achieved  coherence. 

"  Indeed,  yes !  Do  you  know  what  ought  to 
happen  to  him?  Every  unprotected  female  in  this 
county  ought  to  pack  her  trunk  and  trudge  right  up 
to  the  Remington  place  and  say,  '  Here  we  are,  noble 
man !  We  have  read  your  burning  words  in  which 
you  offer  to  protect  us.  Save  us  from  the  vote! 
Let  your  home  be  our  sanctuary.  That's  what  you 
mean  if  you  meant  anything  but  tommy-rot.  Here 
and  now  we  throw  ourselves  upon  your  boasted 
chivalry.  Where  are  our  rooms,  and  what  time  is 
luncheon  served.' ' 

"  Here !  Just  say  that  again,"  called  Mr.  Evans 
from  across  the  room.  Miss  Sheridan  obliged.  She 
elaborated  her  theme.  George  should  be  taken  at 
his  word  by  every  weak  flower  of  womanhood.  If 
women  were  nothing  but  ministering  angels,  it 
was  "  up  to "  George  to  give  'em  a  chance  to 
minister. 

So  went  Miss  Sheridan's  improvisation  and  Mr. 


48  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Evans,  suffering  the  throes  of  a  mighty  inspiration, 
suddenly  found  it  sweetest  music. 

When  Miss  Sheridan  subsided,  Mr.  Evans  ap 
peared  to  have  forgotten  the  cause  of  their  late 
encounter.  Whistling  cheerily  he  bustled  into  his 
own  office,  mumbling  of  matters  that  had  to  be 
"gotten  off."  For  some  moments  he  busied  him 
self  at  his  desk,  then  emerged  to  dictate  three  busi 
ness  letters  to  his  late  antagonist. 

He  dictated  in  a  formal  and  distant  manner, 
pausing  in  the  midst  of  the  last  letter  to  spell  out 
the  word  "  analysis,"  which  he  must  have  known 
would  enrage  her  further.  Then,  quite  casually,  he 
wished  to  be  told  if  she  might  know  the  local 
habitat  of  Mrs.  Alys  Brewster-Smith  and  a  certain 
Cousin  Emelene.  His  manner  was  arid. 

Miss  Sheridan  chanced  to  know  that  the  ladies 
were  sheltered  in  the  exclusive  boarding-house  of 
one  Mrs.  Gallup,  out  on  Erie  Street,  and  informed 
him  to  this  effect  in  the  fewest  possible  words. 
Mr.  Evans  whistled  absently  a  moment,  then  for 
mally  announced  that  he  should  be  absent  from  the 
office  for  perhaps  an  hour. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  49 

Hat,  gloves  and  stick  in  hand,  he  was  about  to 
nod  punctiliously  to  the  back  of  Miss  Sheridan's 
head  when  the  door  opened  to  admit  none  other 
than  our  hero,  George  Remington.  George  wore 
the  look  of  one  who  is  uplifted  and  who  yet  has 
found  occasion  to  be  thoughtful  about  it.  Penfield 
Evans  grasped  his  hand  and  shook  it  warmly. 

"  Fine,  George,  old  boy — simply  corking !  Hon 
estly,  I  didn't  believe  you  had  it  in  you.  You  cov 
ered  the  ground  and  you  did  it  in  a  big  way.  It 
took  nerve,  all  right !  Of  course  you  probably  know 
that  every  woman  in  town  is  speaking  of  your 
young  wife  as  *  poor  Genevieve,'  but  you've  had  the 
courage  of  your  convictions.  It's  great !  " 

"  Thanks,  old  man !  I've  spoken  for  the  right  as 
I  saw  it,  let  come  what  may.  By  the  way,  has 
Uncle  Martin  been  in  this  morning,  or  telephoned, 
or  sent  any  word  ?  " 

Miss  Sheridan  coldly  signified  that  none  of  these 
things  had  occurred,  whereupon  George  sighed  in 
an  interesting  manner  and  entered  his  own  room. 

Mr.  Evans  had  uttered  his  congratulations  in 
clear,  ringing  tones  and  Miss  Sheridan,  even  as 


50  THE  STURDY  OAK 

she  wrote,  contrived  with  her  trained  shoulders  to 
exhibit  to  his  lingering  eye  an  overwhelming  con 
tempt  for  his  opinions  and  his  double-dealing. 

In  spite  of  which  he  went  out  whistling,  and 
dosed  the  door  in  a  defiant  manner. 


CHAPTER  III 
BY  FANNIE  HURST 

DESTINY,  busybody  that  she  is,  has  her  thousand 
irons  in  her  perpetual  fires,  turning,  testing  and 
wielding  them. 

While  Miss  Betty  Sheridan,  for  another  scornful 
time,  was  rereading  the  well-thumbed  copy  of  the 
Sentinel,  her  fine  back  arched  like  a  prize  cat's, 
George  Remington  in  his  small  mahogany  office 
adjoining,  neck  low  and  heels  high,  was  codifying, 
over  and  over  again,  the  small  planks  of  his  plat 
form,  stuffing  the  knot  holes  which  afforded  peeps 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  issue  with  anti-putty, 
and  planning  a  bombardment  of  his  pattest  phrases 
for  the  complete  capitulation  of  his  Uncle  Jaffry. 

While  Genevieve  Remington  in  her  snug  library, 
so  eager  in  her  wifeliness-  to  clamber  up  to  her  hus 
band's  small  planks,  and  if  need  be,  spread  her 
prettily  flounced  skirts  over  the  rotting  places,  was 

51 


52  THE  STURDY  OAK 

memorizing,  with  more  pride  than  understanding, 
extracts  from  the  controversial  article  for  quota 
tion  at  the  Woman's  Club  meeting,  Mr.  Penfield 
Evans,  with  a  determination  which  considerably  ex 
panded  his  considerable  chest  measurement,  ran 
two  at  a  bound  up  the  white  stone  steps  of  Mrs. 
Gallup's  private  boarding-house  and  pulled  out  the 
white  china  knob  of  a  bell  that  gave  no  evidence  of 
having  sounded  within,  and  left  him  uncertain  to 
ring  again. 

A  cast-iron  deer,  with  lichen  growing  along  its 
antlers,  stood  poised  for  instant  flight  in  Mrs.  Gal 
lup's  front  yard. 

While  Mr.  Evans  waited  he  regarded  its  cast- 
iron  flanks,  but  not  seeingly.  His  rather  the  ex 
pression  of  one  who  stares  into  the  future  and 
smiles  at  what  he  sees. 

Erie  Street,  shaded  by  a  double  row  of  showy 
chestnuts,  lay  in  summer  calm.  A  garden  hose 
with  a  patent  attachment  spun  spray  over  an  ad 
joining  lawn  and  sent  up  a  greeny  smell.  Out  from 
under  the  striped  awning  of  Hassebrock's  Ice  Cream 
Parlor,  cat-a-corner,  Percival  Pauncefort  Sheridan, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  53 

in  rubber-heeled  canvas  shoes  and  white  trousers, 
cuffed  high,  emerged  and  turned  down  Huron 
Street,  making  frequent  forays  into  a  bulging  rear 
pocket. 

Miss  Lydia  Chipley,  vice-president  of  the  Busy 
Bee  Sewing  and  Civic  Club,  cool,  starchy  and  un- 
hatted,  clicked  past  on  slim,  trim  heels,  all  radiated 
by  the  reflection  from  a  pink  parasol,  gay  embroid 
ery  bag  dangling. 

"Hello,  Lyd!" 

"Hello,  Pen!" 

"What's  your  hurry?" 

"  It's  my  middle  name." 

"  Why  hurry,  when  the  future  is  always  wait 
ing?" 

"  Why  aren't  you  holding  your  partner's  head 
since  he  committed  political  suicide  in  the 
Sentinel  f  " 

"  I'd  rather  hold  your  head,  Lyd,  any  day  in 
the  week." 

"  Gaul,"  said  Miss  Chipley,  passing  on,  her 
sharply  etched  little  face  glowing  in  the  pink  re 
flection  of  the  parasol,  "  is  bounded  on  the  north 


54  THE  STURDY  OAK 

by  Mrs.  Gallup's  boarding-house,  and  on  the  south 
by " 

"By  the  Frigid  Zone!" 

Then  the  door  from  behind  swung  open.  Mr. 
Penfield  Evans  stepped  into  Mrs.  Gallup's  cool,  ex 
clusive  parlor  of  better  days,  and  delivering  his 
card  to  a  moist-fingered  maid,  sat  himself  among 
the  shrouded  furniture  to  await  Mrs.  Alys  Brewster- 
Smith  and  Miss  Emelene  Brand. 

Mrs.  Gallup's  boarding-house  was  finishing  its 
noonday  meal.  Boiled  odors  lay  upon  a  parlor  that 
was  otherwise  redolent  of  the  more  opulent  days 
of  the  Gallups.  A  not  too  ostentatious  clatter  of 
dishes  came  through  the  closed  folding-doors. 

Almost  immediately  Mrs.  Alys  Brewster-Smith, 
her  favorite  Concentrated  Breath  of  the  Lily  always 
in  advance,  rustled  into  the  darkened  parlor,  her 
stride  hitting  vigorously  into  her  black  taffeta  skirts. 
Even  as  she  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Evans,  she  jerked 
the  window  shade  to  its  height,  so  that  her  smooth 
ness  and  coloring  shone  out  above  her  weeds. 

In  the  shadow  of  her  and  at  her  life  job  of  bring 
ing  up  the  rear,  with  a  large  Maltese  cat  padding 


THE  STURDY  OAK  55 

beside  her,  entered  Miss  Brand  on  rubber  heels. 
She  was  the  color  of  long  twilight. 

Mr.  Evans  rose  to  his  six-feet-in-his-stockings 
and  extended  them  each  a  hand,  Miss  Emelene 
drawing  the  left. 

Mrs.  Smith  threw  up  a  dainty  gesture,  black  lace 
ruffles  falling  back  from  arms  all  the  whiter  be 
cause  of  them. 

"Well,  Penny  Evans!" 

"  None  other,  Mrs.  Smith,  than  the  villain  him 
self." 

"  Be  seated,  Penfield." 

"  Thanks,  Miss  Emelene." 

They  drew  up  in  a  triangle  beside  the  window 
overlooking  the  cast-iron  deer.  The  cat  sprang  up, 
curling  in  the  crotch  of  Miss  Emelene's  arm. 

"  Nice  ittie  kittie,  say  how-do  to  big  Penny-field- 
Evans.  Say  how-do  to  big  man.  Say  how-do,  muv- 
ver's  ittie  kittie."  Miss  Emelene  extended  the 
somewhat  reluctant  Maltese  paw,  five  hook-shaped 
claws  slightly  in  evidence. 

"  Say  how-do  to  Hanna,  Penfield.  Hanna,  say 
how-do  to  big  man." 


56  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  How-do,  Hanna,"  said  Mr.  Evans,  reddening 
slightly  beneath  his  tan.  Then  hitched  his  chair 
closer. 

"  To  what,"  he  began,  flashing  his  white  smile 
from  one  to  the  other  of  them,  and  with  a  strong 
veer  to  the  facetious,  "  are  we  indebted  for  the 
honor  of  this  visit?  Are  those  the  unspoken  words, 
ladies?" 

"  Nothing  wrong  at  home,  Penfield  ?  Nobody 
ailing  or " 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Emelene,  never  better.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  it's  a  piece  of  political  business  that 
has  prompted  me  to " 

At  that  Mrs.  Smith  jangled  her  bracelets,  leaning 
forward  on  her  knees. 

"If  it's  got  anything  to  do  with  your  partner 
and  my  cousin  George  Remington  having  the  cour 
age  to  go  in  for  the  district  attorneyship  without 
the  support  of  the  vote-hunting,  vote-eating  women 
of  this  town,  I'm  here  to  tell  you  that  I'm  with 
him  heart  and  soul.  He  can  have  my  support 
and " 

"  Mine  too.     And  if  I've  got  anything  to  say 


THE  STURDY  OAK  57 

my  two  nephews  will  vote  for  him;  and  I  think  I 
have,  with  my  two  heirs." 

"  Ladies,  it  fills  my  heart  with  joy  to " 

"  Votes !  Why  what  would  the  powder- 
puffing,  short-skirted,  bridge-playing  women  of 
this  town  do  with  the  vote  if  they  had  it? 
Wear  it  around  their  necks  on  a  gold 
chain?" 

"  Well  spoken,  Mrs.  Smith,  if " 

"  I  know  the  direction  you  lean,  Penfield  Evans, 

letting " 

"  But,  Miss  Emelene,  I " 

"  Letting  that  shameless  Betty  Sheridan,  a  girl 
that  had  as  sweet  and  womanly  a  mother  as  White 
water  ever  boasted,  lead  you  around  by  the  nose 
on  her  suffrage  string.  A  girl  with  her  raising  and 
both  of  her  grandmothers  women  that  lived  and 
died  genteel,  to  go  traipsing  around  in  her  low 
heels  in  men's  offices  and  addressing  hoi  polloi  from 
soap  boxes!  Why,  between  her  and  that  female 
chauffeur,  Mrs.  Herrington,  another  woman  whose 
mother  was  of  too  fine  feelings  even  to  join  the 
Delsarte  class,  the  women  of  this  town  are  being 


58  THE  STURDY  OAK 

influenced  to  making  disgraceful — dis — oh,  what 
shall  I  say,  Alys?" 

Here  Mrs.  Smith  broke  in,  thumping  a  soft  fist 
into  a  soft  palm. 

"  It's  the  most  pernicious  movement,  Mr.  Evans, 
that  has  ever  got  hold  of  this  community  and  we 
need  a  man  like  my  cousin  George  Remington 

"  But,  Mrs.  Smith,  that's  just  what  I " 

"  To  stamp  it  out !  Stamp  it  out !  It's  eating  into 
the  homes  of  Whitewater,  trying  to  make  bread 
winners  out  of  the  creatures  God  intended  for  the 
bread-eaters — I  mean  bread-bakers." 

<'  But,  Mrs.  Smith,  I " 

"  Woman's  place  has  been  the  home  since  home 
was  a  cave,  and  it  will  be  the  home  so  long  as 
women  will  remember  that  womanliness  is  their 
greatest  asset.  As  poor  dear  Mr.  Smith  was  so 
fond  of  saying,  he — I  can't  bring  myself  to  talk 
of  him,  Mr.  Evans,  but — but  as  he  used  to  say,  I — 


"Yes,  yes,  Mrs.  Smith,  I  understa " 

"  But  as  my  cousin  says  in  his  article,  which  in 


THE  STURDY  OAK  59 

my  mind  should  be  spread  broadcast,  what  higher 
mission  for  woman  than — than — just  what  are  his 
words,  Emelene  ?  " 

Miss  Brand  leaned  forward,  her  gaze  boring 
into  space. 

"  What  higher  mission,"  she  quoted,  as  if  talking 
in  a  chapel,  "  for  woman  than  that  she  sit  enthroned 
in  the  home,  wielding  her  invisible  but  mighty 
scepter  from  that  throne,  while  man,  kissing  the 
hand  that  so  lovingly  commands  him,  shall  bear 
her  gifts  and  do  her  bidding.  That  is  the  strongest 
vote  in  the  world.  That  is  the  universal  suffrage 
which  chivalry  grants  to  woman.  The  unpolled 
vote !  Long  may  it  reign !  " 

Round  spots  of  color  had  come  out  on  Miss 
Emelene's  long  cheeks. 

"  A  man  who  can  think  like  that  has  the  true — 
the  true — what  shall  I  say,  Alys  ?  " 

"  But,  ladies,  I  protest  that  I'm  not " 

"  Has  the  true  chivalry  of  spirit,  Emelene,  that 
the  women  are  too  stark  raving  mad  to  appreciate. 
You  can't  come  here,  Mr.  Evans,  to  two  women 
to  whom  womanliness  and  love  of  home,  thank 


60  THE  STURDY  OAK 

God,   are  still   uppermost   and   try   to   convert   us 
.  )> 

Here  Mr.  Evans  executed  a  triple  gyration,  to 
the  annoyance  of  Hanna,  who  withdrew  from  the 
gesture,  and  raised  his  voice  to  a  shout  that  was 
not  without  a  note  of  command. 

"  Convert  you !  Why  women  alive,  what  I've 
been  bursting  a  blood  vessel  trying  to  say  during 
the  length  of  this  interview  is  that  I'd  as  soon  dip 
my  soul  in  boiling  oil  as  try  to  convert  you  away 
from  the  cause.  My  cause !  Our  cause !  " 

«  Why " 

"  I'm  here  to  tell  you  that  I'm  with  my  partner 
head-over-heels  on  the  plank  he  has  taken." 

"  But  we  thought " 

"  We  thought  you  and  Betty  Sheridan — why,  my 
cousin  Genevieve  Remington  told  me  that " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Miss  Emelene.  But  not  even  the 
wiles  of  a  pretty  woman  can  hold  out  indefinitely 
against  Truth!  A  broad-minded  man  has  got  to 
keep  the  door  of  his  mind  open  to  conviction,  or  it 
decays  of  mildew.  I  confess  that  finally  I  am  con 
vinced  that  if  there  is  one  platform  more  than  an- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  61 

other  upon  which  George  Remington  deserves  his 
election  it  is  on  the  brave  and  chivalrous  prin 
ciples  he  has  so  courageously  come  out  with  in  the 
current  Sentinel.  Whatever  may  have  been  be 
tween  Betty  Sheridan  and " 

"  Mr.  Evans,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you 
and  Betty  Sheridan  have  quarreled!  Such  a  de 
sirable  match  from  every  point  of  view,  family  and 
all!  It  goes  to  show  what  a  rattle-pated  bunch  of 
women  they  are!  Any  really  clever  girl  with  an 
eye  to  her  future,  anti  or  pro,  could  shift  her  politics 
when  it  came  to  a  question  of  matri " 

"  Mrs.  Smith,  there  comes  a  time  in  every  mod 
ern  man's  life  when  he's  got  to  keep  his  politics 
and  his  pretty  girls  separate,  or  suffrage  will  get 
him  if  he  don't  watch  out ! " 

"  Yes,  and  Mr.  Evans,  if  what  I  hear  is  true,  a 
good-looking  woman  can  talk  you  out  of  your  safety 
deposit  key !  " 

"  That's  where  you're  wrong,  Mrs.  Smith,  and 
I'll  prove  it  to  you.  Despite  any  wavering  I  may 
have  exhibited,  I  now  stand,  as  George  puts  it  in 
his  article,  '  ready  to  conserve  the  threatened  flower 


62  THE  STURDY  OAK 

of  womanhood  by  also  endeavoring  to  conserve  her 
unpolled  vote!'  If  you  women  want  prohibition, 
it  is  in  your  power  to  sway  man's  vote  to  prohibi 
tion.  If  you  women  want  the  moon,  let  man  cast 
your  proxy  vote  for  it!  In  my  mind,  that  is  the 
true  chivalry.  To  quote  again,  *  Woman  is  man's 
rarest  heritage,  his  beautiful  responsibility,  and  at 
all  times  his  co-operation,  support  and  protection 
are  due  her.  His  support  and  protection.' ' 

Miss  Emelene  closed  her  eyes.  The  red  had 
spread  in  her  cheeks  and  she  laid  her  head  back 
against  the  chair,  rocking  softly  and  stroking  the 
thick-napped  cat. 

"  The  flower  of  womanhood,"  she  repeated. 
" '  His  support  and  his  protection.'  If  ever  a 
man  deserved  high  office  because  of  high  principles, 
it's  my  cousin  George  Remington!  My  cousin 
Genevieve  Livingston  Remington  is  the  luckiest  girl 
in  the  world,  and  not  one  of  us  Brands  but  what 
is  willing  to  admit  it.  My  two  nephews,  too,  if  their 
Aunt  Emelene  has  anything  to  say,  and  I  think  she 
has " 

"  Why,  there  isn't  a  stone  in  the  world  I  wouldn't 


THE  STURDY  OAK  63 

turn  to  see  that  boy  in  office,"  Mrs.  Smith  inter 
rupted. 

At  that  Mr.  Evans  rose. 

"You  mean  that,  Mrs.  Smith?" 

Miss  Emelene  rose  with  him,  the  cat  pouring 
from  her  lap. 

"Of  course  she  means  it,  Penfield.  What  self- 
respecting  woman  wouldn't ! " 

Mr.  Evans  sat  down  again  suddenly,  Miss 
Emelene  with  him,  and  leaning  violently  forward, 
thrust  his  eager,  sun-tanned  face  between  the  two 
women. 

"  Well,  then,  ladies,  here's  your  chance  to  prove 
it!  That's  what  brings  me  today.  As  two  of  the 
self-respecting,  idealistic  and  womanly  women  of 
this  community,  I  have  come  to  urge  you  both 

"Oh,  Mr.  Evans!" 

"  Penfield,  you  are  the  flatterer !  " 

"To  induce  two  such  representative  women  as 
yourselves  to  help  my  partner  to  the  election  he  so 
well  deserves." 

"Us?" 


64  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  It  is  in  your  power,  ladies,  to  demonstrate  to 
Whitewater  that  George  Remington's  chivalry  is  not 
only  on  paper,  but  in  his  soul." 

"But— how?" 

"  By  throwing  yourselves  upon  his  generosity  and 
hospitality,  at  least  during  the  campaign.  You  have 
it  in  your  power,  ladies,  to  strengthen  the  only  un 
certain  plank  upon  which  George  Remington  stands 
today." 

A  clock  ticked  roundly  into  a  silence  tinged  with 
eloquence.  The  Maltese  leaped  back  into  Miss 
Emelene's  lap,  purring  there. 

"  You  mean,  Penfield,  for  us  to  go  visit  George — 
er— er " 

"  Just  that !  Bag  and  baggage.  As  two  relatives 
and  two  unattached  women,  it  is  your  privilege, 
nay,  your  right." 

«  But " 

"He  hasn't  come  out  in  words  with  it,  but  he 
has  intimated  that  such  an  act  from  the  representa 
tive  antis  of  this  town  would  more  than  anything 
strengthen  his  theories  into  facts.  As  unattached 
women,  particularly  as  women  of  his  own  family, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  65 

his  support  and  protection,  as  he  puts  it,  are  due 
you,  due  you !  " 

Mrs.  Smith  clasped  her  plentifully  ringed  fingers, 
and  regarded  him  with  her  prominent  eyes  widen 
ing. 

"  Why,  I — unprotected  widow  that  I  am,  Mr. 
Evans,  am  not  the  one  to  force  myself  even  upon 
my  cousin  if " 

"  Nor  I,  Penfield.  It  would  be  a  pleasant  enough 
change,  heaven  knows,  from  the  boarding-house. 
But  you  can  ask  your  mother,  Penfield,  if  there 
ever  was  a  prouder  girl  in  all  Whitewater  than 
Emmy  Brand.  I " 

"But  I  tell  you,  ladies,  the  obligation  is  all  on 
George's  part.  It's  just  as  if  you  were  polling  votes 
for  him.  What  is  probably  the  oldest  adage  in  the 
language,  states  that  actions  speak  louder  than 
words.  Give  him  his  chance  to  spread  broadcast 
to  your  sex  his  protection,  his  support.  That,  ladies, 
is  all  I — we — ask." 

"  But  I — Genevieve — the  housekeeping,  Penfield. 
Genevieve  isn't  much  on  management  when  it  comes 


66  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Housekeeping !  Why,  I  have  it  from  your  fair 
cousin  herself,  Miss  Emelene,  that  her  idea  of 
their  new  little  home  is  the  Open  House." 

"  Yes,  but — as  Emelene  says,  Mr.  Evans,  it's 
an  imposition  to " 

"  Why  do  you  think,  Mrs.  Smith,  Martin  Jaffry 
spends  all  his  evenings  up  at  Remingtons'  since 
they're  back  from  their  honeymoon?  Why,  he  was 
telling  me  only  last  night  it's  for  the  joy  of  seeing 
that  new  little  niece  of  his  lording  it  over  her  well- 
oiled  little  household,  where  a  few  extra  dropping 
in  makes  not  one  whit  of  difference." 

At  this  remark,  embedded  like  a  diamond  in  a 
rock,  a  shade  of  faintest  color  swam  across  Mrs. 
Smith's  face  and  she  swung  him  her  profile  and 
twirled  at  her  rings. 

"  And  where  Genevieve  Remington's  husband's 
interests  are  involved,  ladies,  need  I  go  further 
in  emphasizing  your  welcome  into  that  little 
home?" 

"Heaven  knows  it  would  be  a  change  from  the 
boarding-house,  Alys.  The  lunches  here  are  be 
ginning  to  go  right  against  me !  That  sago  pudding 


THE  STURDY  OAK  67 

today — and  Gallup  knowing  how  I  hate  starchy 
desserts!" 

"  For  the  sake  of  the  cause,  Miss  Emelene, 
too!" 

"  Gallup  would  have  to  hold  our  rooms  at  half 
rate." 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Smith.  I'll  arrange  all 
that." 

"  I — I  can't  go  over  until  evening,  with  three 
trunks  to  pack." 

"  Just  fine,  Mrs.  Smith.  You'll  be  there  just  in 
time  to  greet  George  at  dinner." 

Miss  Emelene  fell  to  stroking  the  cat,  again 
curled  like  a  sardelle  in  her  lap. 

"  Kitti-kitti-kitti — ,  does  muvver's  ittsie  Hanna 
want  to  go  on  visit  to  Tousin  George  in  fine  new 
ittie  house  ?  To  fine  Tousin  Georgie  what  give  ittsie 
Hanna  big  saucer  milk  evvy  day?  Big  fine  George 
what  like  ladies  and  lady  kitties ! " 

"  Emelene,  it's  out  of  the  question  to  take 
Hanna.  You  know  how  George  Remington  hates 
cats !  You  remember  at  the  Sunday  School  Bazaar 
when " 


68  THE  STURDY  OAK 

A  grimness  descended  like  a  mask  over  Miss 
Brand's  features.  Her  mouth  thinned. 

"  Very  well,  then.  Without  Hanna  you  can  count 
me  out,  Penfield.  If " 

"  No,  no !  Why  nonsense,  Miss  Emelene ! 
George  doesn't " 

"  This  cat  has  the  feelings  and  sensibilities  of  a 
human  being." 

"Why  of  course,"  cried  Penfield  Evans,  reach 
ing  for  his  hat.  "  Just  you  bring  Hanna  right 
along,  Miss  Emelene.  That's  only  a  pet  pose  of 
George's  when  he  wants  to  tease  his  relatives,  Mrs. 
Smith.  I  remember  from  college — why  I've  seen 
George  kiss  a  cat !  " 

Miss  Emelene  huddled  the  object  of  contro 
versy  up  in  her  chin,  talking  down  into  the  warm 
gray  fur. 

"  Was  'em  tryin'  to  'buse  muvver's  ittsie  bittsie 
kittsie?  Muvver's  ittsie  bittsie  kittsie!  " 

They  were  in  the  front  hall  now,  Mr.  Evans  tug 
ging  at  the  door. 

"  I'll  run  around  now  and  arrange  to  have  your 
trunks  called  for  at  five.  My  congratulations  and 


THE  STURDY  OAK  69 

thanks,  ladies,  for  helping  the  right  man  toward 
the  right  cause." 

"  You're  sure,  Penfield,  we'll  be  welcome  ?  " 

"  Welcome  as  the  sun  that  shines !  " 

"  If  I  thought,  Penfield,  that  Hanna  wouldn't  be 
welcome  I  wouldn't  budge  a  step." 

"  Of  course  she's  welcome,  Miss  Emelene. 
Isn't  she  of  the  gentler  sex?  There'll  be  a  cab 
around  for  you  and  Mrs.  Smith  and  Hanna  about 
five.  So  long,  Mrs.  Smith,  and  many  thanks.  Miss 
Emelene,  Hanna." 

On  the  outer  steps  they  stood  for  a  moment  in 
a  dapple  of  sunshine  and  shadow  from  chestnut 
trees. 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Evans,  until  evening." 

"  Good-by,  Mrs.  Smith."  He  paused  on  the 
walk,  lifting  his  hat  and  flashing  his  smile  a  third 
time. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Emelene/' 

From  the  steps  Miss  Brand  executed  a  rotary 
motion  with  the  left  paw  of  the  dangling  Maltese. 

"  Tell  nice  gentleman  by-by.  Turn  now,  Hanna, 
get  washed  and  new  ribbon  to  go  by-by.  Her  go 


70  THE  STURDY  OAK 

to  big  Cousin  George  and  piddy  Cousin  Genevieve. 
By-by!  By-by!" 

The  door  swung  shut,  enclosing  them.  Down 
the  quiet,  tree-shaped  sidewalk,  Mr.  Penfield  Evans 
strode  into  the  somnolent  afternoon,  turning  down 
Huron  Street.  At  the  remote  end  of  the  block  and 
before  her  large  frame  mansion  of  a  thousand 
angles  and  wooden  lace  work,  Mrs.  Harvey  Her- 
rington's  low  car  sidled  to  her  curb-stone,  racy- 
looking  as  a  hound.  That  lady  herself,  large  and 
modish,  was  in  the  act  of  stepping  up  and  in. 

"  Well,  Pen  Evans !  Tis  writ  in  the  book  our 
paths  should  cross." 

"  Who  more  pleased  than  I?  " 

"  Which  way  are  you  bound  ?  " 

"  Jenkins'  Transfer  and  Cab  Service." 

"  Jump  in." 

"  No  sooner  said  than  done." 

Mrs.  Herrington  threw  her  clutch  and  let  out  a 
cough  of  steam.  They  jerked  and  leaped  forward. 
From  the  rear  of  the  car  an  orange  and  black  pen 
nant — Votes  for  Women — stiffened  out  like  a  sema 
phore  against  the  breeze. 


CHAPTER  IV 
BY  DOROTHY  CANFIELD 

GENEVIEVE  REMINGTON  sat  in  her  pretty  draw 
ing-room  and  watched  the  hour  hand  of  the  clock 
slowly  approach  five.  Five  was  a  sacred  hour  in 
her  day.  At  five  George  left  his  office,  turned  off 
the  business-current  with  a  click  and  turned  on,  full- 
voltage,  the  domestic-affectionate. 

Genevieve  often  told  her  girl  friends  that  she 
only  began  really  to  live  after  five,  when  George 
was  restored  to  her.  She  assured  them  the  psy 
chical  connection  between  George  and  herself  was  so 
close  that,  sitting  alone  in  her  drawing-room,  she 
could  feel  a  tingling  thrill  all  over  when  the  clock 
struck  five  and  George  emerged  from  his  office 
downtown. 

On  the  afternoon  in  question  she  received  her 
five  o'clock  electric  thrill  promptly  on  time,  although 

7* 


72  THE  STURDY  OAK 

history  does  not  record  whether  or  not  George 
walked  out  from  his  office  at  that  moment.  With 
all  due  respect  for  the  world-shaking  importance 
of  Mr.  Remington's  movements,  it  must  be  stated 
that  history  had,  on  that  afternoon,  other  more  im 
portant  events  to  chronicle. 

As  the  clock  struck  five,  the  front  doorbell  rang. 
Marie,  the  maid,  went  to  open  the  door.  Genevieve 
adjusted  the  down-sweeping,  golden-brown  tress 
over  her  right  eye,  brushed  an  invisible  speck  from 
the  piano,  straightened  a  rose  in  a  vase,  and  after 
these  traditionally  bridal  preparations,  waited  with 
a  bride's  optimistic  smile  the  advent  of  a  caller. 
But  it  was  Marie  who  appeared  at  the  door,  with 
a  stricken  face  of  horror. 

"  Mrs.  Remington !  Mrs.  Remington !  "  she 
whispered  loudly.  "  They've  come  to  stay.  The 
men  are  getting  their  trunks  down  from  the 
wagon." 

"  Who  has  come  to  stay?  Where?  "  queried  the 
startled  bride. 

"  The  two  ladies  who  came  to  call  yesterday !  " 

"Oh!"  said  the  relieved  Genevieve.     "There's 


THE  STURDY  OAK  73 

some  mistake,  of  course.  If  it's  Cousin  Emelene 
and  Mrs. " 

She  advanced  into  the  hall  and  was  confronted 
by  two  burly  men  with  a  very  large  trunk  between 
them. 

"Which  room?"  said  one  of  them  in  a  bored 
and  insolent  voice. 

"  Oh,  you  must  have  come  to  the  wrong  house," 
Genevieve  assured  them  with  her  pretty,  friendly 
smile. 

She  was  so  happy  and  so  convinced  of  the  essen 
tial  Tightness  of  a  world  which  had  produced  George 
Remington  that  she  had  a  friendly  smile  for  every 
one,  even  for  unshaven  men  who  kept  their  battered 
derby  hats  on  their  heads,  had  viciously  smelling 
cigars  in  their  mouths,  and  penetrated  to  her  sacred 
front  hall  with  trunks  which  belonged  somewhere 
else. 

"Isn't  this  G.  L.  Remington's  house?"  inquired 
one  of  the  men,  dropping  his  end  of  the  trunk  and 
consulting  a  dirty  slip  of  paper. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  admitted  Genevieve,  thrilling  at  the 
thought  that  it  was  also  hers. 


74  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  This  is  the  place  all  right,  then,"  said  the  man. 
He  heaved  up  his  end  of  the  trunk  again,  and  said 
once  more,  "  Which  room  ?  " 

The  repetition  fell  a  little  ominously  on  Gene- 
vieve's  ear.  What  on  earth  could  be  the  matter? 
She  heard  voices  outside  and  craning  her  soft  white 
neck,  she  saw  Cousin  Emelene,  with  her  gray 
kitten  under  one  arm  and  a  large  suitcase  in  her 
other  hand,  coming  up  the  steps.  There  was  a 
beatific  expression  in  her  gentle,  faded  eyes,  and 
her  lips  were  quivering  uncertainly.  When  she 
caught  sight  of  Genevieve's  sweet  face  back  of  the 
bored  expressmen,  she  gave  a  little  cry,  ran  for 
ward,  set  down  her  suitcase  and  clasped  her  young 
cousin  in  her  arms. 

"  Oh  Genevieve  dear,  that  noble  wonderful  hus 
band  of  yours!  What  have  you  done  to  deserve 
such  a  man  .  .  .  out  of  this  Age  of  Gold !  " 

This  was  a  sentiment  after  Genevieve's  own  heart, 
but  she  found  it  rather  too  vague  to  meet  the  present 
somewhat  tense  situation. 

Cousin  Emelene  went  on,  clasping  her  at  inter 
vals,  and  talking  very  fast. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  75 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  it !  Now  that  my  time  of 
trial  is  all  over  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  was 
growing  embittered  and  cynical.  All  those  phrases 
my  dear  mother  had  brought  me  to  believe,  the 
sanctity  of  the  home,  the  chivalrous  protection  of 
men,  the  wicked  folly  of  women  who  leave  the 
home  to  engage  in  fierce  industrial  struggle."  .  .  . 
At  about  this  point  the  expressmen  set  the  trunk 
down,  put  their  hands  on  their  hips,  cocked  their 
hats  at  a  new  angle  and  waited  in  gloomy  ennui 
for  the  conversation  to  stop.  Cousin  Emelene 
flowed  on,  her  voice  unsteady  with  a  very  real 
emotion. 

"  See,  dear,  you  must  not  blame  me  for  my  lack  of 
faith  .  .  .  but  see  how  it  looked  to  me.  There  I 
was,  as  womanly  a  woman  as  ever  breathed,  and 
yet  /  had  no  home  to  be  sanctified,  7  had  never  had 
a  bit  of  chivalrous  protection  from  any  man.  And 
with  the  New  Haven  stocks  shrinking  from  one 
day  to  the  next,  the  way  they  do,  it  looked  as 
though  I  would  either  have  to  starve  or  engage 
in  the  wicked,  unwomanly  folly  of  earning  my 
own  living. 


76  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Do  you  know,  dear  Genevieve,  I  had  almost 

A  / 

come  to  the  point — you  know  how  the  suffragists 
do  keep  banging  away  at  their  points — I  almost 
wondered  if  perhaps  they  were  right  and  if  men 
really  mean  those  things  about  protection  and  sup 
port  in  place  of  the  vote.  .  .  .  And  then  George's 
splendid,  noble-spirited  article  appeared,  and  a  kind 
friend  interpreted  it  for  me  and  told  what  it  really 
meant,  for  me!  Oh,  Genevieve."  .  .  .  The  tears 
rose  to  her  mild  eyes,  her  gentle,  flat  voice  faltered, 
she  took  out  a  handkerchief  hastily.  "  It  seemed 
too  good  to  be  true,"  she  said  brokenly  into  its 
..  folds.  "  I've  longed  all  my  life  to  be  protected,  and 
now  I'm  going  to  be !  " 

"  Which  room,  please  ?  "  said  the  expressman. 
"  We  gotta  be  goin'  on." 

Genevieve  pinched  herself  hard,  jumped  and  said 
"  ouch."  Yes,  she  was  awake,  all  right ! 

"  Oh,  Marie,  will  you  please  get  Hanna  a  saucer 
of  milk  ? "  said  Cousin  Emelene  now,  seeing  the 
maid's  round  eyes  glaring  startled  from  the  dining- 
room  door.  "  And  just  warm  it  a  little  bit,  don't 
scald  it.  She  won't  touch  it  if  there's  the  least  bit 


THE  STURDY  OAK  77 

of  a  scum  on  it.  Just  take  that  ice-box  chill  off. 
Here,  I'll  go  with  you  this  time.  Since  we're  going 
to  live  here  now,  you'll  have  to  do  it  a  good  many 
times,  and  I'd  better  show  you  just  how  to  do  it 
right." 

She  disappeared,  leaving  a  trail  of  caressing 
baby-talk  to  the  effect  that  she  would  take  good  care 
of  muvver's  ittie  bittie  kittie. 

She  left  Genevieve  for  all  practical  purposes 
turned  to  stone.  She  felt  as  though  she  were  stone, 
from  head  to  foot,  and  she  could  open  her  mouth 
no  more  than  any  statue  when,  in  answer  to  the 
next  repetition,  very  peremptory  now,  of  "  Which 
room  ?  "  a  voice  as  peremptory  called  from  the  open 
front  door,  "  Straight  upstairs ;  turn  to  your  right, 
first  door  on  the  left." 

As  the  men  started  forward,  banging  the  mahog 
any  banisters  with  the  corners  of  the  trunk  at  every 
step,  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  stepped  in,  immaculate 
as  to  sheer  collar  and  cuffs,  crisp  and  tailored  as  to 
suit,  waved  and  netted  as  to  hair,  and  chilled  steel 
and  diamond  point  as  to  will-power. 

"  Oh,  Genevieve,  I  didn't  see  you  there !    I  didn't 


78  THE  STURDY  OAK 

know  why  they  stood  there  waiting  so  long.  I  know 
the  house  so  well  I  knew  of  course  which  room 
you'll  have  for  guests.  Dear  old  house !  It  will  be 
like  returning  to  my  childhood  to  live  here  again !  " 
She  cocked  an  ear  toward  the  upper  regions  and 
frowned,  but  went  on  smoothly. 

"  Such  happy  girlhood  hours  as  I  have  passed 
here!  After  all  there  is  nothing  like  the  home 
feeling,  is  there,  for  us  women  at  any  rate!  We're 
the  natural  conservatives,  who  cling  to  the  simple, 
elemental  satisfactions,  and  there's  a  heart-hunger 
that  can  only  be  satisfied  by  a  home  and  a  man's 
protection!  I  thought  George's  description  too 
beautiful  ...  in  his  article  you  know  ...  of 
the  ideal  home  with  the  women  of  the  family  safe 
within  its  walls,  protected  from  the  savagery  of  the 
economic  struggle  which  only  men  in  their  strength 
can  bear  without  being  crushed." 

She  turned  quickly  and  terribly  to  the  express 
men  coming  down  the  stairs  and  said  in  so  fierce 
a  voice  that  they  shrank  back  visibly,  "  There's  an 
other  trunk  to  take  up  to  the  room  next  to  that. 
And  if  you  let  it  down  with  the  bang  you  did  this 


THE  STURDY  OAK  79 

one,  you'll  get  something  that  will  surprise  you! 
Do  you  hear  me !  " 

They  shrank  out,  cowed  and  tiptoeing.  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith  turned  back  to  her  young  cousin- 
by-marriage  and  murmured,  "  That  was  such  a  true 
and  deep  saying  of  George's  .  .  .  wherever  does 
such  a  young  man  get  his  wisdom!  .  .  .  that 
women  are  not  fitted  by  nature  to  cope  with  hostile 
forces!" 

Cousin  Emelene  approached  from  behind  the 
statue  of  Genevieve,  still  frozen  in  place  with  an 
expression  of  stupefaction  on  her  white  face.  The 
older  woman  put  her  arms  around  the  bride's  neck 
and  gave  her  an  affectionate  hug. 

"  Oh,  dearest  Jinny,  doesn't  it  seem  like  a 
dream  that  we're  all  going  to  be  together,  all  we 
women,  in  a  real  home,  with  a  real  man  at  the  head 
of  it  to  direct  us  and  give  us  of  his  strength! 
It  does  seem  just  like  that  beautiful  old-fashioned 
home  that  George  drew  such  an  exquisite  picture 
of,  in  his  article,  where  the  home  was  the  center 
of  the  world  to  the  women  in  it.  It  will  be  to  me, 
I  assure  you,  dear.  I  feel  as  though  I  had  come 


80  THE  STURDY  OAK 

to  a  haven,  and  as  though  I  never  would  want  to 
leave  it!" 

The  expressmen  were  carrying  up  another  trunk 
now,  and  so  conscious  of  the  glittering  eyes  of 
mastery  upon  them  that  they  carried  it  as  though  it 
were  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant  and  they  its  chosen 
priests.  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  followed  them  with 
a  firm  tread,  throwing  over  her  shoulder  to  the 
stone  Genevieve  below,  "  Oh,  my  dear,  little  Eleanor 
and  her  nurse  will  be  in  soon.  Frieda  was  taking 
Eleanor  for  her  usual  afternoon  walk.  Will  you 
just  send  them  upstairs  when  they  come!  I  sup 
pose  Frieda  will  have  the  room  in  the  third  story, 
that  extra  room  that  was  finished  off  when  Uncle 
Henry  lived  here.  Emelene,  you'd  better  come 
right  up,  too,  if  you  expect  to  get  unpacked  before 
dinner." 

She  disappeared,  and  Emelene  fluttered  up 
after  her,  drawn  along  by  suction,  apparently,  like 
a  sheet  of  paper  in  the  wake  of  a  train.  The  ex 
pressmen  came  downstairs,  still  treading  softly, 
and  went  out.  Genevieve  was  alone  again  in  her 
front  hall. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  81 

To  her  came  tiptoeing  Marie,  with  wide  eyes  of 
query  and  alarm.  And  from  Mane's  questioning 
face,  Genevieve  fled  away  like  one  fleeing  from  the 
plague. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Marie !  Don't  speak  to  me. 
Don't  you  dare  ask  me  what  ...  or  I'll  ..." 
She  was  at  the  front  door  as  she  spoke,  poised  for 
flight  like  a  terrified  doe.  "  I  must  see  Mr.  Rem 
ington!  I  don't  know  what  to  tell  you,  Marie,  till 
I  have  seen  Mr.  Remington!  I  must  see  my  hus 
band!  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  I  don't  know 
what  to  think,  until  I  have  seen  my  husband." 

Calling  this  eminently  wifely  sentiment  over  her 
shoulder  she  ran  down  the  front  walk,  hatless, 
wrapless,  just  as  she  was  in  her  pretty  flowered 
and  looped-up  bride's  house  dress.  She  couldn't 
have  run  faster  if  the  house  had  been  on  fire. 

The  clicking  of  her  high  heels  on  the  concrete 
sidewalk  was  a  rattling  tattoo  so  eloquent  of  dis 
organized  panic  that  more  than  one  head  was  thrust 
from  a  neighboring  window  to  investigate,  and 
more  than  one  head  was  pulled  back,  nodding  to 
the  well-worn  and  charitable  hypothesis,  "Their 


82  THE  STURDY  OAK 

first  quarrel."  The  hypothesis  would  instantly  have 
been  withdrawn  if  any  one  had  continued  looking 
after  the  fleeing  bride  long  enough  to  see  her,  re 
gardless  of  passers-by,  fling  herself  wildly  into  her 
husband's  arms  as  he  descended  from  the  trolley- 
car  at  the  corner. 

Betty  Sheridan  was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room 
of  her  parents'  house,  rather  moodily  reading  a 
book  on  the  Balance  of  Trade. 

She  had  an  unconfessed  weakness  of  mind  on  the 
subject  of  tariffs  and  international  trade.  Although 
when  in  college  she  had  written  a  paper  on  it  which 
had  been  read  aloud  in  the  Economics  Seminar  and 
favorably  commented  upon,  she  knew,  in  her  heart 
of  hearts,  that  she  understood  less  than  nothing 
about  the  underlying  principles  of  the  subject.  This 
nettled  her  and  gave  her  occasional  nightmare  mo 
ments  of  doubt  as  to  the  real  fitness  of  women  for 
public  affairs.  She  read  feverishly  all  she  could 
find  on  the  subject,  ending  by  addling  her  brains 
to  the  point  of  frenzy. 

She  was  almost  in  that  condition  now  although 


THE  STURDY  OAK  83 

she  did  not  look  it  in  the  least  as,  dressed  for  dinner 
in  the  evening  gown  which  replaced  the  stark  linens 
and  tailored  seams  of  her  office-costume,  she  bent 
her  shining  head  and  earnest  face  over  the  pages  of 
the  book. 

Penfield  Evans  took  a  long  look  at  her,  as  one 
looks  at  a  rose-bush  in  bloom,  before  he  spoke 
through  the  open  door  and  broke  the  spell. 

"  Oh,  Betty,"  he  called  in  a  low  tone,  beckoning 
her  with  a  gesture  redolent  of  mystery. 

Betty  laid  down  her  book  and  stared.  "  What 
you  want  ?  "  she  challenged  him,  reverting  to  the 
phrase  she  had  used  when  they  were  children  to 
gether. 

"  Come  on  out  here  a  minute !  "  he  said,  jerking 
his  head  over  his  shoulder.  "  I  want  to  show  you 
something. " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  fuss  around  with  you,"  said  Betty, 
turning  to  her  book  again.  "  I've  got  Roberts' 
Balance  of  Trade  out  of  the  library  and  I  must 
finish  it  by  tomorrow."  She  began  to  read 
again. 

The  young  man  stood  silent  for  a  moment. 


84  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Great  Scott!  "  he  was  saying  to  himself  with  a 
sinking  heart.  "  So  that's  what  they  pick  up  for 
light  reading,  when  they're  waiting  for  dinner ! " 

He  had  a  particularly  gone  feeling  because, 
although  he  had  made  several  successful  political 
speeches  on  international  trade  and  foreign  tariffs, 
he  was  intelligent  enough  to  know  in  his  heart  of 
hearts  that  he  had  no  real  understanding  of  the 
principles  involved.  He  had  come,  indeed,  to  doubt 
if  any  one  had ! 

Now,  as  he  watched  the  pretty  sleek  head  bent 
over  the  book  he  had  supposed  of  course  was  a 
novel,  he  felt  a  qualm  of  real  apprehension.  Maybe 
there  was  something  in  what  that  guy  said,  the 
one  who  wrote  a  book  to  prove  (bringing  Queen 
Elizabeth  and  Catherine  the  Great  as  examples) 
that  the  real  genius  of  women  is  for  political  life. 
Maybe  they  have  a  special  gift  for  it!  Maybe,  a 
generation  or  so  from  now,  it'll  be  the  men  who  are 
disfranchised  for  incompetence.  .  .  .  He  put 
away  as  fantastic  such  horrifying  ideas,  and  with 
a  quick  action  of  his  resolute  will  applied  himself 
to  the  present  situation. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  85 

"  Oh  Betty,  you  don't  know  what  you're  missing ! 
It's  a  sight  you'll  never  forget  as  long  as  you 
live  ...  oh,  come  on!  Be  a  sport.  Take  a 
chance!" 

Betty  was  still  suspicious  of  frivolity,  but  she 
rose,  looked  at  her  wrist-watch  and  guessed  she'd 
have  a  few  minutes  before  dinner,  to  fool  away  in 
light-minded  society. 

"  There's  nothing  light-minded  about  this ! " 
Penny  assured  her  gravely,  leading  her  swiftly  down 
the  street,  around  the  corner,  up  another  street  and 
finally,  motioning  her  to  silence,  up  on  the  well- 
clipped  lawn  of  a  handsome,  dignified  residence,  set 
around  with  old  trees. 

"  Look !  "  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  dramatically 
pointing  in  through  the  lighted  window.  "  Look ! 
What  do  you  see  ?  " 

Betty  looked,  and  looked  again  and  turned  on 
him  petulantly: 

"  What  foolishness  are  you  up  to  now,  Penfield 
Evans !  "  she  whispered  energetically.  "  Why  under 
the  sun  did  you  drag  me  out  to  see  Emelene  and 
Alys  Brewster-Smith  dining  with  the  Remingtons? 


v/ 


86  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Isn't  it  just  the  combination  of  reactionary  old 
fogies  you  might  expect  to  get  together  .  .  . 
though  I  didn't  know  Alys  ever  took  her  little  girl 
out  to  dinner-parties,  and  Emelene  must  be  per 
fectly  crazy  over  that  cat  to  take  her  here.  Cats 
make  George's  flesh  creep.  Don't  you  remember, 
at  the  Sunday  School  Bazaar." 

He  cut  her  short  with  a  gesture  of  command,  and 
applying  his  lips  to  her  ear  so  that  he  would  not 
be  heard  inside  the  house,  he  said,  "  You  think  all 
you  see  is  Emelene  and  Alys  taking  dinner  en 
famille  with  the  Remingtons.  Eyes  that  see  not! 
What  you  are  gazing  upon  is  a  reconstruction  of 
the  blessed  family  life  that  existed  in  the  good  old 
days,  before  the  industrial  period  and  the  abominable 
practice  of  economic  independence  for  women  be 
gan!  You  are  seeing  Woman  in  her  proper  place, 
the  Home,  ...  if  not  her  own  Home,  some- 

i. 

body's  Home,  anybody's  Home  .  .  .  the  Home 
of  the  man  nearest  to  her,  who  owes  her  protection 
because  she  can't  vote.  You  are  gazing  upon  ..." 
His  rounded  periods  were  silenced  by  a  tight 
clutch  on  his  wrist. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  87 

"Penfield  Evans.  Don't  you  dare  exaggerate 
to  me!  Have  they  come  there  to  stay!  To  take 
him  at  his  word! " 

He  nodded  solemnly. 

"  Their  trunks  are  upstairs  in  the  only  two  spare- 
rooms  in  the  house,  and  Frieda  is  installed  in  the 
only  extra  room  in  the  attic.  Marie  gave  notice 
that  she  was  going  to  quit,  just  before  dinner. 
George  has  been  telephoning  to  my  Aunt  Harriet  to 
see  if  she  knows  of  another  maid.  .  .  ." 

"  Whatever  .  .  .  whatever  could  have  made 
them  think  of  such  a  thing! "  gasped  Betty,  almost 
beyond  words. 

"  I  did ! "  said  Penfield  Evans,  tapping  himself 
on  the  chest.  "  It  was  my  giant  intelligence  that 
propelled  them  here." 

He  was  conscious  of  a  lacy  rush  upon  him,  and 
of  a  couple  of  soft  arms  which  gave  him  an  im 
passioned  embrace  none  the  less  vigorous  because 
the  arms  were  more  used  to  tennis-racquets  and 
canoe-paddles  than  impassioned  embraces.  Then 
he  was  thrust  back  .  .  .  and  there  was  Betty,  col 
lapsed  against  a  lilac  bush,  shaking  and  convulsed, 


88  THE  STURDY  OAK 

one  hand  pressed  hard  on  her  mouth  to  keep  back 
the  shrieks  of  merriment  which  continually  escaped 
in  suppressed  squeals,  the  other  hand  outstretched 
to  ward  him  off.  .  .  . 

"  No,  don't  you  touch  me,  I  didn't  mean  a  thing 
by  it!  I  just  couldn't  help  it!  It's  too,  too  rich! 
Oh  Penny,  you  duck !  Oh,  I  shall  die !  I  shall  die! 
I  never  saw  anything  so  funny  in  my  life!  Oh, 
Penny,  take  me  away  or  I  shall  perish  here  and 
now !  " 

fs/  On  the  whole,  in  spite  of  the  repulsing  hand,  he 
took  it  that  he  had  advanced  his  cause.  He  broke 
into  a  laugh,  more  light-hearted  than  he  had  uttered 
for  a  long  time.  They  stood  for  a  moment  more 
in  the  soft  darkness,  gazing  in  with  rapt  eyes  at  the 
family  scene.  Then  they  reeled  away  up  the  street, 
gasping  and  choking  with  mirth,  festooning  them 
selves  about  trees  for  support  when  their  legs  gave 
way  under  them. 

"  Did  you  see  George's  face  when  Eme- 
lene  let  the  cat  eat  out  of  her  plate ! "  cried 
Betty. 

"  And    did    you    see    Genevieve's    when    Mrs. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  89 

Brewster- Smith  had  the  dessert  set  down  in  front 
of  her  to  serve !  " 

"  How  about  little  Eleanor  upsetting  the  glass 
of  milk  on  George's  trousers ! " 

"  Oh  poor  old  George !  Did  you  ever  see  such 
gloom !  " 

Thus  bubbling,  they  came  again  to  Betty's  home 
with  the  door  still  open  from  which  she  had  lately 
emerged.  There  Betty  fell  suddenly  silent,  all  the 
laughter  gone  from  her  face.  The  man  peered 
in  the  dusk,  apprehensive.  What  had  gone  wrong, 
now,  after  all? 

"  Do  you  know,  Penny,  we're  pigs !  "  she  said 
suddenly,  with  energy.  "We're  hateful,  abomi 
nable  pigs ! " 

He  glared  at  her  and  clutched  his  hair. 

"  Didn't  you  see  Emelene  Brand's  face?  I 
can't  get  it  out  of  my  mind!  It  makes  me  sick, 
it  was  so  happy  and  peaceful  and  befooled!  Poor 
old  dear!  She  believes  all  that!  And  she's  the 
only  one  who  does !  And  its  beastly  in  us  to  make 
a  joke  of  it!  She  has  wanted  a  home  all  her  life, 
and  she'd  have  made  a  lovely  one,  too,  for  children ! 


go  THE  STURDY  OAK 

And  she's  been  kept  from  it  by  all  this  fool's  talk 
about  womanliness." 

"  Help !  What  under  the  sun  are  you  .  .  . " 
began  Penfield. 

"  Why,  look  here,  she's  not  and  never  was,  the 
kind  any  man  wants  to  marry.  She  wouldn't  have 
liked  a  real  husband,  either  .  .  .  poor,  dear,  thin- 
blooded  old  child!  But  she  wanted  a  home  just 
the  same.  Everybody  does!  And  if  she  had  been 
taught  how  to  earn  a  decent  living,  if  she  hadn't 
been  fooled  out  of  her  five  senses  by  that  idiotic 
cant  about  a  man's  doing  everything  for  you,  or  else 
going  without  .  .  .  why  she'd  be  working  now, 
a  happy,  useful  woman,  bringing  up  two  or  three 
adopted  children  in  a  decent  home  she'd  made  for 
them  with  her  own  efforts  .  .  .  instead  of  making 
her  loving  heart  ridiculous  over  a  cat.  ..." 

She  dashed  her  hand  over  her  eyes  angrily,  and 
stood  silent  for  a  moment,  trying  to  control 
her  quivering  chin  before  she  went  into  the 
house. 

The  young  man  touched  her  shoulder  with  rev 
erent  fingers. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  91 

"  Betty,"  he  said  in  a  rather  unsteady  voice,  "  its 
true,  all  that  bally-rot  about  women  being  better 
than  men.  You  are  I" 

With  which  very  modern  compliment,  he  turned 
and  left  her. 


CHAPTER  V 
BY  KATHLEEN  NORRIS 

HER  first  evening  with  her  augmented  family 
Genevieve  Remington  never  forgot.  It  is  not  at  all 
likely  that  George  ever  forgot  it,  either;  but  to 
George  it  was  only  one  in  the  series  of  disturbing 
events  that  followed  his  unqualified  repudiation  of 
the  suffrage  cause. 

To  Genevieve's  tender  heart  it  meant  the  wreck 
age,  not  the  preservation  of  the  home;  that  lovely 
home  to  whose  occupancy  she  had  so  hopefully 
looked.  She  was  too  young  a  wife  to  recognize  in 
herself  the  evanescent  emotions  of  the  bride.  The 
blight  had  fallen  upon  her  for  all  time.  What  had 
been  fire  was  ashes;  it  was  all  over.  The  roseate 
dream  had  been  followed  by  a  cruel,  and  a  lasting, 
awakening. 

Some  day  Genevieve  would  laugh  at  the  memory 
of  this  tragic  evening,  as  she  laughed  at  George's 

92 


THE  STURDY  OAK  93 

stern  ultimatums,  and  at  Junior's  decision  to  be  an 
engineer,  and  at  Jinny's  tiny  cut  thumb.  But  she 
had  no  sense  of  humor  now.  As  she  ran  to  the 
corner,  and  poured  the  whole  distressful  story  into 
her  husband's  ears,  she  felt  the  walls  of  her  castle 
in  Spain  crashing  about  her  ears. 

George,  of  course,  was  wonderful;  he  had  been 
that  all  his  life.  He  only  smiled,  at  first,  at  her 
news. 

"  You  poor  little  sweetheart !  "  he  said  to  his 
wife,  as  she  clung  to  his  arm,  and  they  entered  the 
house  together.  "  It's  a  shame  to  distress  you  so, 
just  as  we  are  getting  settled,  and  Marie  and  Lottie 
are  working  in!  But  it's  too  absurd,  and  to  have 
you  worry  your  little  head  is  ridiculous,  of  course! 
Let  them  stay  here  to  dinner,  and  then  I'll  just 
quietly  take  it  for  granted  that  they  are  going 
home " 

"  But — but  their  trunks  are  here,  dearest !  " 

Husband  and  wife  were  in  their  own  room  now, 
and  Genevieve  was  rapidly  recovering  her  calm. 
George  turned  from  his  mirror  to  frown  at  her  in 
surprise. 


94-  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Their  trunks !  They  didn't  lose  any  time,  did 
they?  But  do  you  mean  to  say  there  was  no  tele 
phoning — no  notice  at  all?  " 

"  They  may  have  telephoned,  George,  love.  But 
I  was  over  at  Grace  Hatfield's  for  a  while,  and  I 
got  back  just  before  they  came  in!  " 

George  went  on  with  his  dressing,  a  thoughtful 
expression  on  his  face.  Genevieve  thought  he  looked 
stunning  in  the  loose  Oriental  robe  he  wore  while 
he  shaved. 

"  Well,  whatever  they  think,  we  can't  have  this, 
you  know,"  he  said  presently.  "  I'll  have  to  be 
quite  frank  with  Alys, — of  course  Emelene  has 
no  sense ! " 

V  "  Yes,  be  quite  frank !  "  Genevieve  urged  eagerly. 
"  Tell  them  that  of  course  you  were  only  speaking 
figuratively.  Nobody  ever  means  that  a  woman 
really  can't  get  along  without  a  man's  protection, 
because  look  at  the  women  who  do " 

She  stopped,  a  little  troubled  by  the  expression 
on  his  face. 

"  I  said  what  I  truly  believe,  dear/*  he  said 
kindly.  "  You  know  that !" 


THE  STURDY  OAK  95 

Genevieve  was  silent.  Her  heart  beat  furiously, 
and  she  felt  that  she  was  going  to  cry.  He  was 
angry  with  her — he  was  angry  with  her !  Oh,  what 
had  she  said,  what  had  she  said! 

"  But  for  all  that,"  George  continued,  after  a 
moment,  "  nobody  but  two  women  could  have  put 
such  an  idiotic  construction  upon  my  words.  I  am 
certainly  going  to  make  that  point  with  Alys.  A 
sex  that  can  jump  headlong  to  such  a  perfectly  un 
tenable  conclusion  is  very  far  from  ready  to  assume 
the  responsibilities  of  citizenship " 

"  George,  dearest !  "  faltered  Genevieve.  She  did 
not  want  to  make  him  cross  again,  but  she  could 
not  in  all  loyalty  leave  him  under  this  misunder 
standing,  to  approach  the  always  articulate  Alys. 

"  George,  it  was  Penny,  I'm  sure !  "  she  said. 
"  From  what  they  said, — they  talked  all  the  time ! 
— I  think  Penny  went  to  see  them,  and  sort  of — 
sort  of — suggested  this !  I'm  so  sorry,  George " 

George  was  sulphurously  silent. 

"  And  Penny  will  make  the  most  of  it,  you 
know!" 

Genevieve  went  on  quickly  and  nervously.    "If 


96  THE  STURDY  OAK 

you  should  send  them  back,  tonight,  I  know  he'd 
tell  Betty!  And  Betty  says  she  is  coming  to  see 
you  because  she  has  been  asked  to  read  an  answer 
to  your  paper,  at  the  Club,  and  she  might — she  has 
such  a  queer  sense  of  humor " 

Silence.  Genevieve  wished  that  she  was  dead, 
and  that  every  one  was  dead. 

"  I  don't  want  to  criticize  you,  dear,"  George  said 
presently,  in  his  kindest  tone.  "  But  the  time  to  act, 
of  course,  was  when  they  first  arrived.  I  can't  do 
anything  now.  We'll  just  have  to  face  it  through, 
for  a  few  days." 

It  was  not  much  of  a  cloud,  but  it  was  their  first. 
Genevieve  went  downstairs  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

She  had  wanted  their  home  to  be  so  cozy,  so 
dainty,  so  intimate!  And  now  to  have  two  grown 
women  and  a  child  thrust  into  her  Paradise !  Marie 
was  sulky,  rattling  the  silver-drawer  viciously  while 
her  mistress  talked  to  her,  and  Lottie  had  an  ugly 
smile  as  she  submitted  respectfully  that  there  wasn't 
enough  asparagus. 

Then  George's  remoteness  was  terrifying.  He 
carved  with  appalling  courtesy. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  97 

"  Is  there  another  chicken,  Genevieve?  "  he  asked, 
as  if  he  had  only  an  impersonal  interest  in  her 
kitchen.  No,  there  was  only  the  one.  And  plenty, 
too,  said  the  guests  pleasantly.  Genevieve  hoped 
there  were  eggs  and  bacon  for  Marie  and  Lottie 
and  Frieda. 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  you  for  just  a  mouthful  more, 
it  tastes  so  delicious  and  homy !  "  said  Alys.  "  And 
then  I  want  to  talk  a  little  business,  George.  It's 
about  those  houses  of  mine,  out  in  Kentwood.  .  .  ." 

George  looked  at  her  blankly,  over  his  drum 
stick. 

"  Darling  Tom  left  them,"  said  Tom's  widow, 
"  and  they  really  have  rented  well.  They're  right 
near  the  factory,  you  know.  But  now,  just  lately, 
some  man  from  the  agents  has  been  writing  and 
writing  me ;  he  says  that  one  of  them  has  been  con 
demned,  and  that  unless  I  do  something  or  other 
they'll  all  be  condemned.  It's  a  horrid  neighbor 
hood,  and  I  don't  like  the  idea,  anyway,  of  a  woman 
poking  about  among  drains  and  cellars.  Yet,  if  I 
send  the  agent,  he'll  run  me  into  fearful  expense; 
they  always  do.  So  I'm  going  to  take  them  out  of 


98  THE  STURDY  OAK 

his  hands  tomorrow,  and  turn  it  all  over  to  you, 
and  whatever  you  decide  will  be  best !  " 

"  My  dear  girl,  I'm  the  busiest  man  in  the  world !  " 
George  said.  "  Leave  all  that  to  Allen.  He's  the 
best  agent  in  town !  " 

"  Oh,  I  took  them  away  from  Allen  months  ago, 
George.  Sampson  has  them  now." 

"  Sampson  ?  What  the  deuce  did  you  change  for  ? 
I  don't  know  that  Sampson  is  solvent.  I  certainly 
would  go  back  to  Allen " 

"George,  I  can't!" 

The  widow  looked  at  her  plate,  swept  him  a 
coquettish  glance,  and  dropped  her  eyes  again. 

"  Mr.  Allen  is  a  dear  fellow/'  she  elucidated, 
"but  his  wife  is  dreadful!  There's  nothing  she 
won't  suspect,  and  nothing  she  won't  say !  " 

"  My  dear  cousin,  this  isn't  a  question  of  social 
values !  It's  business !  "  George  said  impatiently. 
"But  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  he  added,  after 
scowling  thought.  "  You  put  it  in  Miss  Eliot's 
hands;  she  was  with  Allen  for  some  years.  Now 
she's  gone  in  for  herself,  and  she's  doing  well. 
We've  given  her  several  things " 


THE  STURDY  OAK  99 

"  Take  it  out  of  a  man's  hands  to  put  it  into  a 
woman's!"  Alys  exclaimed.  And  Emelene  added 
softly : 

"  What  can  a  woman  be  thinking  of,  to  go  into 
a  dreadful  business  like  selling  real  estate  and  col 
lecting  rents !  " 

"  Of  course,  she  was  trained  by  men !  "  Genevieve 
threw  in,  a  little  anxiously.  Alys  was  so  tactless, 
when  George  was  tired  and  hungry.  She  cast  about 
desperately  for  some  neutral  topic,  but  before  she 
could  find  one  the  widow  spoke  again. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  George.  I'll  bring 
the  books  and  papers  to  your  office  tomorrow  morn 
ing,  and  then  you  can  do  whatever  you  think  best! 
Just  send  me  a  check  every  month,  and  it  will  be 
all  right!" 

"Just  gather  me  up  what's  there,  on  the  plate," 
Emelene  said,  with  her  nervous  little  laugh  in  the 
silence.  "  I  declare  I  don't  know  when  I've  eaten 
such  a  dinner !  But  that  reminds  me  that  you  could 
help  me  out  wonderfully,  too,  Cousin  George — I 
can't  quite  call  you  Mr.  Remington! — with  those 
wretched  stocks  of  mine. 


ioo  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  they've  been  doing, 
but  I  know  I  get  less  money  all  the  time!  It's  the 
New  Haven,  George,  that  P'pa  left  me  two  years 
ago.  I  can't  understand  anything  about  it,  but  yes 
terday  I  was  talking  to  a  young  man  who  advised 
me  to  put  all  my  money  into  some  tonic  stock. 
It's  a  tonic  made  just  of  plain  earth — he  says  it 
makes  everything  grow.  Doesn't  it  sound  reason 
able?  But  if  I  should  lose  all  I  have,  I'm  afraid 
I'd  really  wear  my  welcome  out,  Genevieve,  dear. 
So  perhaps  you'll  advise  me  ?  " 

"I'll  do  what  I  can!  "  George  smiled,  and  Gene- 
vieve's  heart  rose.  "  But  upon  my  word,  what  you 
both  tell  me  isn't  a  strong  argument  for  Betty's 
cause !  "  he  added  good-naturedly. 

"  P'pa  always  said,"  Emelene  quoted,  "  that  if 
a  woman  looked  about  for  a  man  to  advise  her, 
she'd  find  him!  And  as  I  sit  here  now,  in  this 
lovely  home,  I  think — isn't  it  sweeter  and  wiser 
and  better  this  way?  For  a  while, — because  I  was 
a  hot-headed,  rebellious  girl ! — I  couldn't  see  that  he 
was  right.  I  had  had  a  disappointment,  you  know," 
she  went  on,  her  kind,  mild  eyes  watering.  Gene- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  101 

vieve,  who  had  been  gazing  in  some  astonishment 
at  the  once  hot-headed,  rebellious  girl,  sighed  sym 
pathetically.  Every  one  knew  about  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Totter's  death. 

"  And  after  that  I  just  wanted  to  be  busy/'  con 
tinued  Emelene.  "  I  wanted  to  be  a  trained  nurse, 
or  a  matron,  or  something!  I  look  back  at  it  now, 
and  wonder  what  I  was  thinking  about !  And  then 
dear  Mama  went,  and  I  stepped  into  her  place  with 
P'pa.  He  wasn't  exactly  an  invalid,  but  he  did  like 
to  be  fussed  over,  to  have  his  meals  cooked  by  my 
own  hands,  even  if  we  were  in  a  hotel.  And  whist 
— dear  me,  how  I  used  to  dread  those  three  rub 
bers  every  evening!  I  was  only  a  young  woman 
then,  and  I  suppose  I  was  attractive  to  other  men, 
but  I  never  forgot  Mr.  Totter.  And  Cousin 
George,"  she  turned  to  him  submissively,  "  when 
you  were  talking  about  a  woman's  real  sphere,  I 
felt — well,  almost  guilty.  Because  only  that  one 
man  ever  asked  me.  Do  you  think,  feeling  as  I  did, 
that  I  should  have  deliberately  made  myself  attrac 
tive  to  men  ?  " 

George  cleared  his  throat. 


102  THE  STURDY  OAK 

u  All  women  can't  marry,  I  suppose.  It's  in 
England,  I  believe,  that  there  are  a  million  unmar 
ried  women.  But  you  have  made  a  contented  and 
a  womanly  life  for  yourself,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  there  always  has  been  a  man  to  stand  between 
you  and  the  struggle !  "  he  said. 

"  I  know.  First  P'pa,  and  now  you ! "  Emelene 
mused  happily. 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  myself.  I  was  thinking 
that  your  father  left  you  a  comfortable  income ! " 
he  said  quickly. 

"  And  now  you  have  asked  me  here ;  one  of  the 
dearest  old  places  in  town!"  Emelene  added  in 
nocently. 

Genevieve  listened  in  a  stupefaction.  This  was 
married  life,  then?  Not  since  her  childhood  had 
Genevieve  so  longed  to  stamp,  to  scream,  to  pro 
test,  to  tear  this  twisted  scheme  apart  and  start 
anew! 

She  was  not  a  crying  woman,  but  she  wanted  to 
cry  now.  She  was  not — she  told  herself  indig 
nantly — quite  a  fool.  But  she  felt  that  if  George 
went  on  being  martyred,  and  mechanically  polite, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  103 

and  grim,  she  would  go  into  hysterics.  She  had 
been  married  less  than  six  weeks;  that  night  she 
cried  herself  to  sleep. 

Her  guests  were  as  agreeable  as  their  natures  per 
mitted;  but  Gene  vie  ve  was  reduced,  before  the  third 
day  of  their  visit,  to  a  condition  of  continual  tears. 

This  was  her  home,  this  was  the  place  sacred  to 
George  and  herself,  and  their  love.  Nobody  in  the 
world, — not  his  mother,  not  hers,  had  their 
mothers  been  living! — was  welcome  here.  She  had 
planned  to  be  such  a  good  wife  to  him,  so  thought 
ful,  so  helpful,  so  brave  when  he  must  be  away. 
But  she  could  not  rise  to  the  height  of  sharing  him 
with  other  women,  and  saying  whatever  she  said 
to  him  in  the  hearing  of  witnesses.  And  then 
she  dared  not  complain  too  openly!  That  was  an 
additional  hardship,  for  if  George  insulted  his 
guests,  then  that  horrid  Penny 

Genevieve  had  always  liked  Penny,  and  had 
danced  and  flirted  with  him  aeons  ago.  She  had 
actually  told  Betty  that  she  hoped  Betty  would 
marry  Penny.  But  now  she  felt  that  she  loathed 
him.  He  was  secretly  laughing  at  George,  at 


104  THE  STURDY  OAK 

George  who  had  dared  to  take  a  stand  for  old- 
fashioned  virtue  and  the  purity  of  the  home! 

It  was  all  so  unexpected,  so  hard.  Women  every 
where  were  talking  about  George's  article,  and  ex 
pected  her  to  defend  it!  George,  she  could  have 
defended.  But  how  could  she  talk  about  a  subject 
upon  which  she  was  not  informed,  in  which,  indeed, 
as  she  was  rather  fond  of  saying,  she  was  absolutely 
uninterested  ? 

George  was  changed,  too.  Something  was  worry 
ing  him ;  and  it  was  hard  on  the  darling  old  boy  to 
come  home  to  Miss  Emelene  and  the  cat  and 
Eleanor  and  Alys,  every  night!  Emelene  adored 
him,  of  course,  and  Alys  was  always  interesting 
and  vivacious,  but — but  it  wasn't  like  coming  home 
to  his  own  little  Genevieve! 

The  bride  wept  in  secret,  and  grew  nervous  and 
timid  in  manner.  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith,  however, 
found  this  comprehensible  enough,  and  one  hot 
summer  afternoon  Genevieve  went  into  George's 
office  with  her  lovely  head  held  high,  her  color 
quite  gone,  and  her  breath  coming  quickly  with 
indignation. 


It  was  hard  on  the  darling  old  boy  to  come  home  to  Miss  Emelene 
and  the  cat  and  Eleanor  and  Alys  every  night! 


THE  STURDY  OAK  105 

"  George — I  don't  care  what  we  do,  or  where 
we  go!  But  I  can't  stand  it!  She  said — she  said 
—she  told  me " 

Her  husband  was  alone  in  his  office,  and  Gene- 
vieve  was  now  crying  in  his  arms.  He  patted  her 
shoulder  tenderly. 

"  I'm  so  worried  all  the  time  about  dinners,  and 
Lottie's  going,  and  that  child  getting  downstairs 
and  letting  in  flies  and  licking  the  frosting  off  the 
maple  cake,"  sobbed  Genevieve,  "  that  of  course  I 
show  it!  And  if  I  have  given  up  my  gym  work, 
it's  just  because  I  was  so  busy  trying  to  get  some 
one  in  Lottie's  place !  And  now  they  say — they  say 
— that  they  know  what  the  matter  is,  and  that  I 
mustn't  dance  or  play  golf — the  horrible,  spying 
cats!  I  won't  go  back,  George,  I  will  not!  I " 

Again  George  was  wonderful.  He  put  his  arm 
about  her,  and  she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  his 
desk,  and  leaned  against  that  dear  protective  shoul 
der  and  dried  her  eyes  on  one  of  his  monogrammed 
handkerchiefs.  He  reminded  her  of  a  long-standing 
engagement  for  this  evening  with  Betty  and  Penny, 
to  go  out  to  Sea  Light  and  have  dinner  and  a 


106  THE  STURDY  OAK 

swim,  and  drive  home  in  the  moonlight.  And  when 
she  was  quiet  again,  he  said  tenderly: 

"  You  mustn't  let  the  *  cats '  worry  you,  Pussy. 
What  they  think  isn't  true,  and  I  don't  blame  you 
for  getting  cross !  But  in  one  way,  dear,  aren't 
they  right?  Hasn't  my  little  girl  been  riding  and 
driving  and  dancing  a  little  too  hard?  Is  it  the 
wisest  thing,  just  now?  You  have  been  nervous 
lately,  dear,  and  excitable.  Mightn't  there  be  a 
reason?  Because  I  don't  have  to  tell  you,  sweet 
heart,  nothing  would  make  me  prouder,  and  Uncle 
Martin,  of  course,  has  made  no  secret  of  how  he 
feels !  You  wouldn't  be  sorry,  dear  ?  " 

Genevieve  had  always  loved  children  deeply. 
Long  before  this  her  happy  dreams  had  peopled 
the  old  house  in  Sheridan  Road  with  handsome, 
dark-eyed  girls,  and  bright-eyed  boys  like  their 
father. 

But,  to  her  own  intense  astonishment,  she  found 
this  speech  from  her  husband  distasteful.  George 
would  be  "  proud,"  and  Uncle  Martin  pleased.  But 
it  suddenly  occurred  to  Genevieve  that  neither 
George  nor  Uncle  Martin  would  be  tearful  and 


THE  STURDY  OAK  107 

nervous.  Neither  George  nor  Uncle  Martin  need 
eschew  golf  and  riding  and  dancing.  To  be  sick, 
when  she  had  always  been  so  well !  To  face  death, 
for  which  she  had  always  had  so  healthy  a  horror ! 
Cousin  Alex  had  died  when  her  baby  came,  and 
Lois  Farwell  had  never  been  well  after  the  fourth 
Farwell  baby  made  his  appearance. 

Genevieve's  tears  died  as  if  from  flame.  She 
gently  put  aside  the  sustaining  arm,  and  went  to 
the  little  mirror  on  the  wall,  to  straighten  her  hat. 
She  remembered  buying  this  hat,  a  few  weeks  ago, 
in  the  ecstatic  last  days  of  the  old  life. 

"  We  needn't  talk  of  that  yet,  George/'  she  said 
quietly. 

She  could  see  George's  grieved  look,  in  the  mirror. 
There  was  a  short  silence  in  the  office. 

Then  Betty  Sheridan,  cool  in  pongee,  came 
briskly  in. 

"  Hello,  Jinny !  "  said  she.  "  Had  you  forgotten 
our  plan  tonight?  You're  chaperoning  me,  I  hope 
you  realize!  I'm  rather  difficile,  too.  Genevieve, 
Pudge  is  outside;  he'll  take  you  out  and  buy  you 
something  cold.  I  took  him  to  lunch  today.  It  was 


io8  THE  STURDY  OAK 

disgraceful!  Except  for  a  frightful-looking  mess 
called  German  Pot  Roast  With  Carrots  and  Noodles 
Sixty,  he  ate  nothing  but  melon,  lemon-meringue 
pie,  and  pineapple  special.  I  was  absolutely  ashamed ! 
George,  I  would  have  speech  with  you." 

"  Private  business,  Betty?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 
"  My  wife  may  not  have  the  vote,  but  I  trust  her 
with  all  my  affairs !  " 

"  Indeed,  I'm  not  in  the  least  interested !  "  Gene- 
vieve  said  saucily. 

She  knew  George  was  pleased  with  her  as  she 
went  happily  away. 

"  It's  just  as  well  Jinny  went,"  said  Betty,  when 
she  and  the  district-attorney-elect  were  alone. 
"  Because  it's  that  old  bore  Colonel  Jaynes !  He's 
come  again,  and  he  says  he  will  see  you !  " 

Deep  red  rose  in  George's  handsome  face. 

"  He  came  here  last  week,  and  he  came  yester 
day,"  Betty  said,  sitting  down,  "  and  really  I  think 
you  should  see  him !  You  see,  George,  in  that  far- 
famed  article  of  yours,  you  remarked  that  '  a  vet 
eran  of  the  civil  as  well  as  the  Spanish  war '  had 
told  you  that  it  was  the  restless  outbreaking  of  a 


THE  STURDY  OAK  109 

few  northern  women  that  helped  to  precipitate  the 
national  catastrophe,  and  he  wants  to  know  if  you 
meant  him !  " 

"  I  named  no  names !  "  George  said,  with  dignity, 
yet  uneasily,  too. 

"  I  know  you  didn't.  But  you  see  we  haven't 
many  veterans  of  both  wars,"  Betty  went  on,  pleas 
antly.  "  And  of  course  old  Mrs.  Jaynes  is  a  rabid 
suffragist,  and  she  is  simply  hopping.  He's  a  mild 
old  man,  you  know,  and  evidently  he  wants  to 
square  things  with  *  Mother.'  Now,  George,  who 
did  you  mean  ?  " 

"  A  statement  like  that  may  be  made  in  a 
general  sense,"  George  remarked,  after  scowling 
thought. 

"You  might  have  made  the  statement  on  your 
own  hook,"  Betty  conceded,  "  but  when  you  men 
tion  an  anonymous  Colonel,  of  course  they  all  sit 
up !  He  says  that  he's  going  to  get  a  signed  state 
ment  from  you  that  he  never  said  that,  and  publish 
it!" 

"  Ridiculous !  "  said  George. 

"Then  here  are  two   letters,"   Betty  pursued. 


i  io  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  One  is  from  the  corresponding  secretary  of  the 
Women's  Non-partisan  Pacific  Coast  Association. 
She  says  that  they  would  be  glad  to  hear  from  you 
regarding  your  statement  that  equal  suffrage,  in  the 
western  states,  is  an  acknowledged  failure." 

"  She'll  wait !  "  George  predicted  grimly. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  she's  written  to  our 
Mrs.  Herrington  here,  asking  her  to  follow  up  the 
matter.  George,  dear,"  asked  Betty  maternally, 
"  why  did  you  do  it  ?  Why  couldn't  you  let  well 
enough  alone !  " 

"  What's  your  other  letter?  "  asked  George. 

"  It's  just  from  Mr.  Riker,  of  the  Sentinel, 
George.  He  wants  you  to  drop  in.  It  seems  that 
they  want  a  correction  on  one  of  your  statistics 
about  the  number  of  workingwomen  in  the  United 
States  who  don't  want  the  vote.  He  says  it  only 
wants  a  signed  line  from  you  that  you  were  mis 
taken " 

Refusing  to  see  Colonel  Jaynes,  or  to  answer 
the  Colonel's  letter,  George  curtly  telephoned  the 
editor  of  the  Sentinel,  and  walked  home  at  four 
o'clock,  his  cheeks  still  burning,  his  mind  in  a  whirl. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  in 

Big  issues  should  have  been  absorbing  him :  and  his 
mind  was  pestered  instead  with  these  midges  of  the 
despised  cause.  Well,  it  was  all  in  the  day's 
work 

And  here  was  his  sweet,  devoted  wife,  fluttering 
across  the  hall,  as  cool  as  a  rose,  in  her  pink  and 
white.  And  she  had  packed  his  things,  in  case  they 
wanted  to  spend  the  night  at  Sea  Light,  and  the 
"  cats "  had  gone  off  for  library  books,  and  he 
must  have  some  ginger-ale,  before  it  was  time  to 
go  for  Betty  and  Penny. 

The  day  was  perfection.  The  motor-car  purred 
like  a  racing  tiger  under  George's  gloved  hand. 
Betty  and  Penny  were  waiting,  and  the  three  young 
persons  forgot  all  differences,  and  laughed  and 
chatted  in  the  old  happy  way,  as  they  prepared  for 
the  start.  But  Betty  was  carrying  a  book:  Cath 
erine  of  Russia. 

"  Do  you  know  why  suffragists  should  make  an 
especial  study  of  queens,  George?"  she  asked,  as 
she  and  Penny  settled  themselves  on  the  back 
seat. 

"Well,    I'll    be    interlocutor,"    George    smiled, 


ii2  THE  STURDY  OAK 

glancing  up  at  the  house,  from  which  his  wife  might 
issue  at  any  moment.  "  Why  should  suffragists 
read  the  lives  of  queens,  Miss  Bones  ?  " 

"  Because  queens  are  absolutely  the  only  women 
in  all  history  who  had  equal  rights !  "  Betty  answered 
impassively.  "  Do  you  realize  that  ?  The  only 
women  whose  moral  and  social  and  political  instincts 
had  full  sway !" 

"  And  a  sweet  use  they  made  of  them,  some 
times  !  "  said  George. 

"  And  who  were  the  great  rulers,"  pursued  Betty. 
"  Whose  name  in  English  history  is  like  the  names 
of  Elizabeth  and  Victoria,  or  Matilda  or  Mary, 
for  the  matter  of  that?  Who  mended  and  con 
served  and  built  up  what  the  kings  tore  down 
and  wasted?  Who  made  Russia  an  intellectual 
power " 

Again  Penny  had  an  odd  sense  of  fear.  Were 
women  perhaps  superior  to  men,  after  all! 

"  I  don't  think  Catherine  of  Russia  is  a  woman 
to  whom  a  lady  can  point  with  pride,"  George  said 
conclusively.  Genevieve,  who  had  appeared,  shot 
Betty  a  triumphant  glance  as  they  started. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  113 

Pudge  waved  to  them  from  the  candy  store  at  the 
corner. 

"  There's  a  new  candy  store  every  week !  "  said 
Penny,  shuddering.  "  Heaven  help  that  poor  boy ; 
it  must  be  in  the  blood !  " 

"  Women  must  always  have  something  sweet  to 
nibble,"  George  said,  leaning  back.  "  The  United 
States  took  in  two  millions  last  year  in  gum  alone !  " 

"  Men  chew  gum !  "  suggested  Betty. 

"  But  come  now,  Betty,  be  fair !  "  George  said. 
"Which  sex  eats  more  candy?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  women  do,"  she  admitted. 

"  You  count  the  candy  stores,  down  Main  Street," 
George  went  on,  "  and  ask  yourself  how  it  is  that 
these  people  can  pay  rents  and  salaries  just  on 
candy, — nothing  else.  Did  you  ever  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  could  vote  with  a  chocolate  in  my 
mouth !  "  Betty  muttered  mutinously,  as  the  car 
turned  into  the  afternoon  peace  of  the  main 
thoroughfare. 

"You  count  them  on  your  side,  Penny,  and  I 
will  on  mine !  "  Genevieve  suggested.  "  All  down 
the  street." 


ii4  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Well,  wait — we've  passed  two !  "  Penny  said 
excitedly. 

"  Go  on ;  there's  three.  That  grocery  store  with 
candy  in  the  window !  " 

"  Groceries  don't  count !  "  objected  Betty. 

"  Oh,  they  do,  too !  And  drug  stores.  .  .  . 
Every  place  that  sells  candy !  " 

"  Drug  stores  and  groceries  and  fruit  stores  only 
count  half  a  point,"  Betty  stipulated.  "  Because 
they  sell  other  things !  " 

"That's  fair  enough,"  George  conceded  here, 
with  a  nod. 

Genevieve  and  Penny  almost  fell  out  of  the  car 
in  their  anxiety  not  to  miss  a  point,  and  George 
quite  deliberately  lingered  on  the  cross-streets,  so 
that  the  damning  total  might  be  increased. 

Laughing  and  breathless,  they  came  to  the  bridge 
that  led  from  the  town  to  the  open  fields,  and  took 
the  count. 

"  One  hundred  and  two  and  a  half !  "  shouted 
Penny  and  Genevieve  triumphantly.  George  smiled 
over  his  wheel. 

"  Oh,  women,  women !  "  he  said. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  115 

"  One    hundred    and    sixty-one ! "    said    Betty.    \J 
There  was  a  shout  of  protest. 

"Oh,  Betty  Sheridan!  You  didn't!  Why,  we 
didn't  miss  one!" 

"  I  wasn't  counting  candy  stores/'  smiled  Betty. 
"Just  to  be  different,  I  counted  cigar  stores  and 
saloons.  But  it  doesn't  signify  much  either  way, 
does  it,  George  ?  " 


CHAPTER  VI 
BY  HENRY  KITCHELL  WEBSTER 

OF  the  quartette  who,  an  hour  later,  emerged 
from  the  bath-houses  and  scampered  across  the 
satiny  beech  into  a  discreetly  playful  surf,  Gene- 
vieve  was  the  one  real  swimmer.  She  was  better 
even  than  Penny,  and  she  left  Betty  and  George 
nowhere. 

She  had  an  endless  repertory  of  amphibious  stunts 
which  she  performed  with  gusto,  and  in  the  inter 
vals  she  took  an  equal  satisfaction  in  watching 
Penny's  heroic  but  generally  disastrous  attempts  to 
imitate  them. 

The  other  two  splashed  around  aimlessly  and  now 
and  then  remonstrated. 

Now,  it's  all  very  well  to  talk  about  two  hearts 
beating  as  one,  and  in  the  accepted  poetical  sense  of 
the  words,  of  course  Genevieve's  and  George's  did. 
But  as  a  matter  of  physiological  fact,  they  didn't. 

116 


THE  STURDY  OAK  117 

At  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  or  so  George  began 
turning  a  delicate  blue  and  a  clatter  as  of  distant 
castanets  provided  an  obligate  when  he  spoke,  the 
same  being  performed  by  George's  teeth. 

The  person  who  made  these  observations  was 
Betty. 

"You'd  better  go  out,"  she  said.  "You're 
freezing/' 

It  ought  to  have  been  Genevieve  who  said  it,  of 
course,  though  the  fact  that  she  was  under  water 
more  than  half  the  time  might  be  advanced  as  her 
excuse  for  failing  to  say  it.  But  who  could  venture 
to  excuse  the  downright  callous  way  in  which  she 
exclaimed,  "Already?  Why  we've  just  got  in! 
Come  along  and  dive  through  that  wave.  That'll 
warm  you  up !  " 

It  was  plain  to  George  that  she  didn't  care  whether 
he  was  cold  or  not.  And,  though  the  idea  wouldn't 
quite  go  into  words,  it  was  also  clear  to  him 
that  an  ideal  wife — a  really  womanly  wife — 
would  have  turned  blue  just  a  little  before  he 
began  to. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,   in  a  cold  blue  voice  that 


n8  THE  STURDY  OAK 

matched  the  color  of  his  finger  nails.    "  I  think  I've 
had  enough." 

Betty  came  splashing  along  beside  him. 

"I'm  going  out,  too,"  she  said.  "  We'll  leave 
these  porpoises  to  their  innocent  play." 

This  was  almost  pure  amiability,  because  she 
wasn't  cold,  and  she'd  been  having  a  pretty  good 
time.  Her  other  (practically  negligible)  motive  was 
that  Penny  might  be  reminded,  by  her  withdrawal, 
of  his  forgotten  promise  to  teach  her  to  float — and 
be  sorry.  Altogether,  George  would  have  been 
showing  only  a  natural  and  reasonable  sense  of  his 
obligations  if  he'd  brightened  up  and  flirted  with 
her  a  little,  instead  of  glooming  out  to  sea  the  way 
he  did,  paying  simply  no  attention  to  her  at  all.  So 
at  last  she  pricked  him. 

"  Isn't  it  funny,"  she  said,  "  the  really  blighting 
contempt  that  swimmers  feel  for  people  who  can't 
feel  at  home  in  the  water — people  who  gasp  and 
shiver  and  keep  their  heads  dry  ?  " 

She  could  see  that,  in  one  way,  this  remark  had 
done  George  good.  It  helped  warm  him  up.  Lean 
ing  back  on  her  hands,  as  she  did,  she  could  see 


THE  STURDY  OAK  119 

the  red  come  up  the  back  of  his  neck  and  spread 
into  his  ears.  But  it  didn't  make  him  conversa 
tionally  any  more  exciting.  He  merely  grunted. 
So  she  tried  again. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said  dreamily,  "  that  the  myth 
about  mermaids  must  be  founded  in  fact.  Or  is  it 
sirens  I'm  thinking  about?  Perfectly  fascinating, 
irresistible  women,  who  lure  men  farther  and  far 
ther  out,  in  the  hope  of  a  kiss  or  something,  until 
they  get  exhausted  and  drown.  I'll  really  be  glad 
when  Penny  gets  back  alive." 

"  And  I  shall  be  very  glad,"  said  George,  trying 
hard  for  a  tone  of  condescending  indifference  ap 
propriate  for  use  with  one  who  has  played  dolls 
with  one's  little  sister,  "  I  shall  really  be  very  glad 
when  you  make  up  your  mind  what  you  are  going 
to  do  with  Penny.  He's  just  about  a  total  loss 
down  at  the  office  as  it  is,  and  he's  getting  a  worse 
idiot  from  day  to  day.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  I 
imagine  you  know  all  the  while  what  you're  going 
to  do  about  it — whether  you're  going  to  take  him 
or  not." 

The  girl  flushed  at  that.     He  was  being  almost 


120  THE  STURDY  OAK 

too  outrageously  rude,  even  for  George.  But  be 
fore  she  said  anything  to  that  effect,  she  thought  of 
something  better. 

"  I  shall  never  marry  any  man,"  she  said  very 
intensely,  "  whose  heart  is  not  with  the  Cause. 
You  know  what  Cause  I  mean,  George — the  Suf 
frage  Cause.  When  I  see  thoughtless  girls  handing 
over  their  whole  lives  to  men  who  ..."  *• 

It  sounded  like  the  beginning  of  an  oration. 

"Good  Lord!"  her  victim  cried.  "Isn't  there 
anything  else  than  that  to  talk  about — ever?  " 

"  But  just  think  how  lucky  you  are,  George," 
she  said,  "  that  at  home  they  all  think  exactly  as 
you  do ! " 

He  jumped  up.  Evidently  this  reminder  of  the 
purring  acquiescences  of  Cousin  Emelene  and  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith  laid  no  balm  upon  his  harassed 
spirit. 

"  You  may  leave  my  home  alone,  if  you  please." 

He  was  frightfully  annoyed,  of  course,  or  he 
wouldn't  have  said  anything  as  crude  as  that.  In 
a  last  attempt  to  recover  his  scattered  dignity,  he 
caught  at  his  office  manner. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  121 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  "  you  forgot  to  remind 
me  today  to  write  a  letter  to  that  Eliot  woman  about 
Mrs.  Brewster-Smith's  cottages." 

With  that  he  stalked  away  to  dress.  Genevieve 
and  Penny,  now  shoreward  bound,  hailed  him.  But 
it  wasn't  quite  impossible  to  pretend  he  didn't  hear, 
and  he  did  it. 

The  dinner  afterward  at  the  Sea  Light  Inn  was  a 
rather  gloomy  affair.  George's  lonely  grandeur  was 
only  made  the  worse,  it  seemed,  by  Genevieve's  be 
lated  concern  lest  he  might  have  taken  cold  through 
not  having  gone  and  dressed  directly  he  came  out 
of  the  water.  Genevieve  then  turned  very  frosty 
to  Penny,  having  decided  suddenly  that  it  was  all 
his  fault. 

As  for  Betty,  though  she  was  as  amiable  a  little 
soul  as  breathed,  she  didn't  see  why  she  should  make 
any  particular  effort  to  console  Penny,  just  because 
his  little  flirtation  with  Genevieve  had  stopped  with 
a  bump. 

Even  the  ride  home  in  the  moonlight  didn't  help 
much.  Genevieve  sat  beside  George  on  the  front 
seat,  and  between  them  there  stretched  a  tense, 


122  THE  STURDY  OAK 

/  tragic  silence.  In  the  back  seat  with  Penfield  Evans, 
and  in  the  intervals  of  frustrating  his  attempts  to 
hold  her  hand,  Betty  considered  how  frightfully 
silly  young  married  couples  could  be  over  micro 
scopic  differences. 

But  Betty  was  wrong  here  and  the  married  pair 
A  on  the  front  seat  were  right. 

Just  reflect  for  a  minute  what  Genevieve's  George 
was.  He  was  her  knight,  her  Bayard,  her  thor 
oughly  Tennysonian  King  Arthur.  The  basis  of 

her  adoration  was  that  he  should  remain  like  tfyat. 

W 
You  can  see  then  what  a  staggering  experiend^  it 

was  to  have  caught  herself,  even  for  a  minute,  in 
the  act  of  smiling  over  him  as  sulky  and  absurd. 

And  think  of  George's  Genevieve!  A  saint  en 
shrined,  that  his  soul  could  profitably  bow  down 
before  whenever  it  had  leisure  to  escape  from  the 
activities  of  a  wicked  world.  Fancy  his  horror 
over  the  mere  suspicion  that  she  could  be  indifferent 
to  his  wishes — his  comfort — even  his  health,  because 
of  a  mere  tomboy  flirtation  with  a  man  who  could 
swim  better  than  he  could !  Most  women  were  like 
that,  he  knew — vain,  shallow,  inconstant  creatures! 


THE  STURDY  OAK  123 

But  was  not  his  pearl  an  exception  ?  It  was  horrible 
to  have  to  doubt  it. 

By  three  o'clock  the  next  morning,  after  many 
tears  and  much  grave  discourse,  they  succeeded  in 
getting  these  doubts  to  sleep — killing  them,  they'd 
have  said,  beyond  the  possibility  of  resurrection. 
It  was  the  others  who  had  made  all  the  trouble. 
If  only  they  could  have  the  world  to  themselves — 
no  Cousin  Emelene,  no  Alys  Brewster-Smith,  no 
Penfield  Evans  and  Betty  Sheridan,  with  their 
frivolity  and  low  ideals,  to  complicate  things!  An 
Arcadian  Island  in  some  /Eonian  Sea. 

"  Well,"  he  said  hopefully,  "  our  home  can  be 
like  that.  It  shall  be  like  that,  when  we  get  rid  of 
Alys  and  her  horrible  little  girl,  and  Cousin  Eme 
lene  and  her  unspeakable  cat.  It  shall  be  our  world ; 
and  no  troubles  or  cares  or  worries  shall  ever  get 
in  there!" 

She  acquiesced  in  this  prophecy,  but  even  as  she 
did  so,  cuddling  her  face  against  his  own,  a  low- 
down,  unworthy  spook,  whose  existence  in  her  he 
must  never  suspect,  said  audibly  in  her  inner  ear, 
"  Much  he  knows  about  it !  " 


124  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Betty  did  not  forget  to  remind  George  of  the 
letter  he  was  to  write  to  Miss  Eliot  about  taking 
over  the  agency  of  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith's  cottages. 
In  the  composition  of  this  letter  George  washed  his 
hands  of  responsibility  with,  you  might  say,  anti 
septic  care. 

He  had  taken  pleasure  in  recommending  Miss 
Eliot,  he  explained,  and  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  was 
acting  on  his  recommendation.  Any  questions  aris 
ing  out  of  the  management  of  the  property  should 
be  taken  up  directly  with  her  client.  Miss  Eliot 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  understanding  that  the 
enormous  pressure  of  work  which  now  beset  him 
precluded  him  from  having  anything  more  to  do 
with  the  matter. 

The  letter  was  typed  and  inclosed  in  a  big  linen 
envelope,  with  the  mess  of  papers  Alys  had  dumped 
upon  his  desk  a  few  days  previously,  and  it  was 
despatched  forthwith  by  the  office  boy. 

"  There,"  said  George  on  a  note  of  grim  satis 
faction,  "  that's  done !  " 

The  grimness  lasted,  but  the  satisfaction  did  not. 
Or  only  until  the  return  of  the  office  boy,  half  an 


THE  STURDY  OAK  125 

hour  later,  with  the  identical  envelope  and  a  three- 
line  typewritten  note  from  Miss  Eliot.  She  was 
sorry  to  say,  she  wrote,  that  she  did  not  consider 
it  advisable  to  undertake  the  agency  for  the  prop 
erty  in  question.  Thanking  him,  nevertheless,  for 
his  courtesy,  she  was  his  very  truly,  E.  Eliot. 

George  summoned  Betty  by  means  of  the  buzzer, 
and  asked  her,  with  icy  indignation,  what  she 
thought  of  that.  But,  as  he  was  visibly  bursting 
with  impatience  to  say  what  he  thought  of  it,  she 
gave  him  the  opportunity. 

"  I  thought  you  advanced  women,"  he  said,  v 
"  were  supposed  to  stand  by  each  other — stand  by 
all  women — try  to  make  things  better  for  them. 
One  for  all — all  for  one.  That  sort  of  thing.  But 
it  really  works  the  other  way.  It's  just  because 
a  woman  owns  those  cottages  that  Miss  Eliot  won't 
have  anything  to  do  with  them.  She  knows  that 
women  are  unreasonable  and  hard  to  get  on  with 
in  business  matters,  so  she  passes  the  buck!  Back 
to  a  man,  if  you  please,  who  hasn't  any  more  real 
responsibility  for  it  than  she  has." 

There  was,  of  course,  an  obvious  retort  to  this; 


126  THE  STURDY  OAK 

namely,  that  business  was  business,  and  that  a  busi 
ness  woman  had  the  same  privilege  a  business  man 
had,  of  declining  a  job  that  looked  as  if  it  would  en 
tail  more  bother  than  it  was  worth.  But  Betty 
couldn't  quite  bring  herself  to  take  this  line. 
Women,  if  they  could  ever  get  the  chance  (through 
the  vote  and  in  other  ways),  were  going  to  make 
the  world  a  better  place — run  it  on  a  better  lot  of 
ideals.  It  wouldn't  do  to  begin  justifying  women 
on  the  ground  that  they  were  only  doing  what  men 
did.  As  well  abandon  the  whole  crusade  right  at 
the  beginning. 

George  saw  her  looking  rather  thoughtful,  and 
pressed  his  advantage.  Suppose  Betty  went  and 
saw  Miss  Eliot  personally,  sometime  today, 
and  urged  her  to  reconsider.  The  business  didn't 
amount  to  much,  it  was  true,  and  it  no  doubt  in 
volved  the  adjustment  of  some  troublesome  details. 
But  unless  Miss  Eliot  would  undertake  it,  he 
wouldn't  know  just  where  to  turn.  Alys  had  quar 
reled  with  Allen,  and  Sampson  was  a  skate.  And 
perhaps  a  little  plain  talk  to  Alys  about  the  condi 
tion  of  the  cottages — "  from  one  of  her  own  sex," 


THE  STURDY  OAK  127 

George  said  this  darkly  and  looked  away  out  of  the 
window  at  the  time — might  be  productive  of  good. 

"  All  right,"  Betty  agreed,  "  I'll  see  what  I  can 
do.  It's  kind  of  hard  to  go  to  a  woman  you  barely 
know  by  sight,  and  talk  to  her  about  her  duty,  but 
I  guess  I'm  game.  If  you  can  spare  me,  I'll  go  now 
and  get  it  over  with." 

There  were  no  frills  about  Edith  Eliot's  real 
estate  office,  though  the  air  of  it  was  comfortably 
busy  and  prosperous. 

The  place  had  once  been  a  store.  An  architect's 
presentation  of  an  apartment  building,  now  rather 
dusty,  occupied  the  show-window.  There  was  desk 
accommodation  for  two  or  three  of  those  bright 
young  men  who  make  a  selection  of  keys  and  take 
people  about  to  look  at  houses;  there  was  a  stenog 
rapher's  desk  with  a  stenographer  sitting  at  it;  and 
back  of  a  table  in  the  corner,  in  the  attitude  of  one 
making  herself  as  comfortable  as  the  heat  of  the 
day  would  permit,  while  she  scowled  over  a  volum 
inous  typewritten  document,  was  E.  Eliot  herself. 
It  was  almost  superfluous  to  mention  that  her  name 
was  Edith.  She  never  signed  it,  and  there  was 


128  THE  STURDY  OAK 

no  one,  in  Whitewater  anyway,  who  called  her 
by  it. 

She  was  a  big-boned  young  woman  (that  is,  if 
you  call  the  middle  thirties  young),  with  an  intelli 
gent,  homely  face,  which  probably  got  the  attrac 
tion  some  people  surprisingly  found  in  it  from  the 
fact  that  she  thought  nothing  about  its  looks  one 
way  or  the  other.  It  was  rather  red  when  Betty 
came  in,  and  she  was  making  it  rapidly  redder 
with  the  vigorous  ministrations  of  a  man's-size 
handkerchief. 

She  greeted  Betty  with  a  cordial  "  how-de-doo," 
motioned  her  to  the  other  chair  at  the  table  (Betty 
had  a  fleeting  wish  that  she  might  have  dusted  it 
before  she  sat  down),  and  asked  what  she  could 
do  for  her. 

"  I'm  from  Mr.  Remington's  office,"  Betty  said, 
"  Remington  and  Evans.  He  wrote  you  a  note  this 
morning  about  some  cottages  that  belong  to  a  cousin 
of  his,  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith." 

"  I  answered  that  note  by  his  own  messenger," 
said  E.  Eliot.  "  He  should  have  got  the  reply  be 
fore  this." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  129 

"Oh,  he  got  it,"  said  Betty,  "and  was  rather 
upset  about  it.  What  I've  come  for,  is  to  urge  you 
to  reconsider." 

E.  Eliot  smiled  rather  grimly  at  her  blotting-pad, 
looked  up  at  Betty,  and  allowed  her  smile  to  change 
its  quality.  What  she  said  was  not  what  she  had 
meant  to  say  before  she  looked  up.  E.  Eliot  was 
always  upbraiding  herself  for  being  sentimental 
about  youth  and  beauty  in  her  own  sex.  She'd 
never  been  beautiful,  and  she'd  never  been  young — 
not  young  like  Betty.  But  the  upbraidings  never  did 
any  good. 

She  said :  "  I  thought  I  had  considered  sufficiently 
when  I  answered  Mr.  Remington's  note.  But  it's 
possible  I  hadn't.  What  is  it  you  think  I  may  have 
overlooked  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Betty,  "  George  thought  the  reason 
you  wouldn't  take  the  cottages  was  because  a  woman 
owned  them.  He  used  it  as  a  sort  of  example  of 
how  women  wouldn't  stick  together.  He  said  that 
you  probably  knew  that  women  were  unreasonable 
and  hard  to  deal  with  and  didn't  want  the  bother." 

It  disconcerted  Betty  a  little  that  E.  Eliot  inter- 


130  THE  STURDY  OAK 

posed  no  denial  at  this  point,  though  she'd  paused 
to  give  her  the  opportunity. 

"  You  see,"  she  went  on  a  little  breathlessly,  "  I'm 
for  women  suffrage  and  economic  independence 
and  all  that.  I  think  it's  perfectly  wonderful  that 
you  should  be  doing  what  you  are — showing  that 
women  can  be  just  as  successful  in  business  as  men 
can.  Of  course  I  know  that  you've  got  a  perfect 
right  to  do  just  what  a  man  would  do — refuse  to 
take  a  piece  of  business  that  wasn't  worth  while. 
But — but  what  we  hope  is,  and  what  we  want  to 
show  men  is,  that  when  women  get  into  politics 
and  business  they'll  be  better  and  less  selfish." 

"Which  do  you  mean  will  be  better?"  E.  Eliot 
inquired.  "  The  politics  and  the  business,  or  the 
women?  " 

"  I  mean  the  politics  and  the  business,"  Betty 
told  her  rather  frostily.  Was  the  woman  merely 
making  fun  of  her? 

E.  Eliot  caught  the  note.  "  I  meant  my  ques 
tion  seriously,"  she  said.  "  It  has  a  certain  im 
portance.  But  I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt  you.  Go 
ahead." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  131 

"  Well,"  Betty  said,  "  that's  about  all.  George- 
Mr.  Remington — that  is — is  running  for  district 
attorney,  and  he  has  come  out  against  suffrage  as 
you  know.  I  thought  perhaps  this  was  a  chance 
to  convert  him  a  little.  It  would  be  a  great  favor 
to  him,  anyway,  if  you  took  the  cottages;  because 
he  doesn't  know  whom  to  turn  to,  if  you  won't. 
I  didn't  come  to  try  to  tell  you  what  your  duty  is, 
but  I  thought  perhaps  you  hadn't  just  looked  at  it 
that  way." 

"  All  right,"  said  E.  Eliot.  "  Now  I'll  tell  you 
how  I  do  look  at  it.  In  the  first  place,  about  doing 
business  for  women.  It  all  depends  on  the  woman 
you're  doing  business  with.  If  she's  had  the  busi 
ness  training  of  a  man,  she's  as  easy  to  deal  with 
as  a  man.  If  she's  never  had  any  business  training 
at  all,  if  business  doesn't  mean  anything  to  her 
except  some  vague  hocus-pocus  that  produces  her 
income,  then  she's  seven  kinds  of  a  Tartar. 

"  She  has  no  more  notion  about  what  she  has 
a  right  to  expect  from  other  people,  or  what  they've 
a  right  to  expect  from  her,  than  a  white  Angora 
cat.  Of  course,  the  majority  of  women  who  have 


132  THE  STURDY  OAK 

property  to  attend  to  have  had  it  dumped  on  their 
hands  in  middle  life,  or  after,  by  the  wills  of  lov 
ing  husbands.  Those  women,  I'll  say  frankly,  are 
the  devil  and  all  to  deal  with.  But  it's  their  hus 
bands'  and  fathers'  fault,  and  not  their  own.  Any 
how,  that  isn't  the  reason  I  wouldn't  take  those 
cottages. 

V  "  It  was  the  cottages  themselves,  and  not  the 
woman  who  owned  them,  that  decided  me.  That 
whole  Kentwood  district  is  a  disgrace  to  civiliza 
tion.  The  sanitary  conditions  are  filthy;  have  been 
for  years.  The  owners  have  been  resisting  con 
demnation  proceedings  right  along,  on  the  ground 
that  the  houses  brought  in  so  little  rental  that  it 
would  be  practical  confiscation  to  compel  them  to 
make  any  improvements.  Now,  since  the  war 
boon  struck  the  mills,  and  every  place  with  four 
walls  and  a  roof  is  full,  they're  saying  they  can't 
afford  to  make  any  change  because  of  the  frightful 
loss  they'd  suffer  in  potential  profits. 

"  Well,  when  you  agree  to  act  as  a  person's  agent, 
you've  got  to  act  in  that  person's  interest ;  and  when 
it's  a  question  of  the  interest  of  the  owners  of  those 


THE  STURDY  OAK  133 

Kentwood  cottages,  whether  they're  men  or  women, 
my  idea  was  that  I  didn't  care  for  the  job." 

"  I  think  you're  perfectly  right  about  it,"  Betty 
said.  "  I  wouldn't  have  come  to  urge  you  to  change 
your  mind,  if  I  had  understood  what  the  situation 
was.  But,"  here  she  held  out  her  hand,  "  I'm 
glad  I  did  come,  and  I  wish  we  might  meet 
again  sometime  and  get  acquainted  and  talk  about  * 
things." 

"  No  time  like  the  present,"  said  E.  Eliot.  "  Sit 
down  again,  if  you've  got  a  minute."  She  added, 
as  Betty  dropped  back  into  her  chair,  "  You're 
Elizabeth  Sheridan,  aren't  you? — Judge  Sheridan's 
daughter?  And  you're  working  as  a  stenographer 
for  Remington  and  Evans?  " 

Betty  nodded  and  stammered  out  the  beginning 
of  an  apology  for  not  having  introduced  herself 
earlier.  But  the  older  woman  waved  this  aside. 

"  What  I  really  want  to  know,"  she  went  on,  "  if 
it  isn't  too  outrageous  a  question,  is  what  on  earth 
you're  doing  it  for — working  in  that  law  office,  I 
mean?  " 

It  was  a  question  Betty  was  well  accustomed  to 


134  THE  STURDY  OAK 

answering.  But  coming  from  this  source,  it  sur 
prised  her  into  a  speechless  stare. 

"  Why,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  do  it  because  I  be 
lieve  in  economic  independence  for  women.  Don't 
you?  But  of  course  you  do." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  E.  Eliot.  "I  believe  in 
food  and  clothes,  and  money  to  pay  the  rent,  and 
the  only  way  I  have  ever  found  of  having  those 
things  was  to  get  out  and  earn  them.  But  if  ever 
I  make  money  enough  to  give  me  an  independent 
income  half  the  size  of  what  yours  must  be,  I'll 
retire  from  business  in  short  order." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Betty,  "I  don't  believe 
you  would.  I  think  you're  mistaken.  I  don't  be 
lieve  a  woman  like  you  could  live  without  working." 

"  I  didn't  say  I'd  quit  working,"  said  E.  Eliot. 
"  I  said  I'd  quit  business.  That's  another  thing. 
There's  plenty  of  real  work  in  the  world  that  won't 
earn  you  a  living.  Lord !  Don't  I  see  it  going  by 
right  here  in  this  office!  There  are  things  I  just 
itch  to  get  my  hands  into,  and  I  have  to  wait  and 
tell  myself  'some  day,  perhaps!'  There's  a  thing 
I'd  like  to  do  now,  and  that's  to  take  a  hand  in  this 


THE  STURDY  OAK  135 

political  campaign  for  district  attorney.  It  would 
kill  my  business  deader  than  Pharaoh's  aunt,  so 
I've  got  to  let  it  go.  But  it  would  certainly  put 
your  friend  George  Remington  up  a  tall  tree." 

"Oh,  you're  a  suffragist,  then?"  Betty  ex 
claimed  eagerly.  "  I  was  wondering  about  that. 
I've  never  seen  you  at  any  of  our  meetings." 

"  I'm  a  suffragist,  all  right,"  said  E.  Eliot,  "  but 
as  your  meetings  are  mostly  held  in  the  afternoons,  j  */ 


to  get 


when  I'm  pretty  busy,  I  haven't  been  able 
'round. 

"  I'm  curious  about  Remington,"  she  went  on. 
"  I've  known  him  a  little,  for  years.  When  I 
worked  for  Allen,  I  used  to  see  him  quite  often  in 
the  office.  And  I'd  always  rather  liked  him.  So 
that  I  was  surprised,  clear  down  to  the  ground,  when 
I  read  that  statement  of  his  in  the  Sentinel.  I'd 
never  thought  he  was  that  sort.  And  from  the  fact 
that  you  work  in  his  office  and  like  him  well  enough 
to  call  him  George  one  might  almost  suppose  he 
wasn't." 

Clearly  Betty  was  puzzled.  "  Of  course,"  she 
said,  "  I  think  his  views  about  women  are  obsolete 


136  THE  STURDY  OAK 

and  ridiculous.  But  I  don't  see  what  they've  got 
to  do  with  liking  him  or  not,  personally." 

E.  Eliot's  smile  became  grim  again,  but  she  said 
nothing,  so  Betty  asked  a  direct  question. 

"  That  was  what  you  meant,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  the  other  woman  said,  "  that  was  what 
I  meant.  Why,  if  you  don't  mind  plain  speaking, 
it's  been  my  observation  that  the  sort  of  men  who 
think  the  world  is  too  indecent  for  decent  women 
to  go  out  into,  generally  have  their  own  reasons 
for  knowing  how  indecent  it  is ;  and  that  when  they 
spring  a  line  of  talk  like  that,  they're  being  sicken 
ing  hypocrites  into  the  bargain." 

Betty's  face  had  gone  flame  color. 

"  George  isn't  like  that  at  all,"  she  said.  "  He's 
— he's  really  fine.  He's  old-fashioned  and  senti 
mental  about  women,  but  he  isn't  a  hypocrite.  He 
really  means  those  things  he  says.  Why  .  .  ." 

And  then  Betty  went  on  to  tell  her  new  friend 
about  Cousin  Emelene  and  Alys  Brewster-Smith, 
and  how  George,  though  he  writhed,  had  stood  the 
gaff. 

"  A  grown-up  man,"  E.  Eliot  summed  up,  "  who 


THE  STURDY  OAK  137 

honestly  believes  that  women  are  made  of  some 
thing  fine  and  fragile,  and.  that  they  ought  to  be 
kept  where  even  the  wind  can't  blow  upon  them! 
But  good  heavens,  child,  if  he  really  means  that, 
it  makes  it  all  the  better  for  what  I  was  thinking 
of.  You  don't  understand,  of  course.  I  hadn't 
meant  to  tell  you,  but  I've  changed  my  mind. 

"  Listen  now.  That  statement  in  the  Sentinel  has 
set  the  town  talking,  of  course,  and  stirred  up  a  lot 
of  feeling,  for  and  against  suffrage.  But  what  it 
would  be  worth  as  an  issue  to  go  to  the  mat  with  on 
election  day,  is  exactly  nothing  at  all.  You  go  out 
and  ask  a  voter  to  vote  against  a  candidate  for 
district  attorney  because  he's  an  anti-suffragist, 
and  he'll  say,  '  What  difference  does  it  make  ?  It 
isn't  up  to  him  to  give  women  the  vote.  It  doesn't 
matter  to  me  what  his  private  opinions  are,  as  long 
as  he  makes  a  good  district  attorney ! '  But  there 
is  an  issue  that  we  can  go  to  the  mat  with,  and  so 
far  it  hasn't  been  raised  at  all.  There  hasn't  been 
a  peep."  She  reached  over  and  laid  a  hand  on 
Betty's  arm. 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  fire  protection  laws  for 


138  THE  STURDY  OAK 

factories  are?  And  do  you  know  that  it's  against 
the  law  for  women  to  work  in  factories  at  night? 
Well,  and  do  you  know  what  the  conditions  are 
in  every  big  mill  in  this  town?  With  this  boom 
in  war  orders,  they've  simply  taken  off  the  lid. 
Anything  goes.  The  fire  and  building  ordinances 
are  disregarded,  and  for  six  months  the  mills  have 
been  running  a  night  shift  as  well  as  a  day  shift,  on 
Sundays  and  week-days,  and  three-quarters  of  their 
operatives  are  women.  Those  women  go  to  work 
at  seven  o'clock  at  night,  and  quit  at  six  in  the 
morning;  and  they  have  an  hour  off  from  twelve 
to  one  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 

"  Now  do  you  see  ?  It's  up  to  the  district  attor 
ney  to  enforce  the  law.  Isn't  it  fair  to  ask  this 
defender  of  the  home  whether  he  believes  that 
women  should  be  home  at  night  or  not,  and  if  he 
does,  what  he's  going  to  do  about  it?  Talk  about 
slogans!  The  situation  bristles  with  them!  We 
could  placard  this  town  with  a  lot  of  big  black-faced 
questions  that  would  make  it  the  hottest  place  for 
George  Remington  that  he  ever  found  himself  in. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  pretty  good  campaign  work 


THE  STURDY  OAK  139 

if  he  was  the  hypocrite  I  took  him  to  be,  from  his 
stuff  in  the  Sentinel.  But  if  he's  on  the  level,  as 
you  think  he  is,  there's  a  chance — don't  you  see 
there's  a  chance  that  he'd  come  out  flat-footed  for 
the  enforcement  of  the  law?  And  if  he  did!  .  .  . 
Child,  can  you  see  what  would  happen  if  he  did?  " 

Betty's  eyes  were  shining  like  a  pair  of  big 
sapphires.  When  she  spoke,  it  was  in  a  whisper 
like  an  excited  child. 

"  I  can  see  a  little,"  she  said.  "  I  think  I  can 
see.  But  tell  me." 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  E.  Eliot,  "  see  whom 
he'd  have  against  him.  There'd  be  the  best  people, 
to  start  with.  Most  of  them  are  stockholders  in 
the  mills.  Why,  you  must  be,  yourself,  in  the 
Jaffry-Bradshaw  Company !  Your  father  was,  any 
way." 

Betty  nodded. 

!<  You  want  to  be  sure  you  know  what  it  means," 
the  older  woman  went  on.  "  This  thing  might  cut 
into  your  dividends,  if  it  went  through." 

"  I  hope  it  will,"  said  Betty  fiercely.  "  I  never 
realized  before  that  my  money  was  earned  like  that 


140  THE  STURDY  OAK 

— by  women,  girls  of  my  age,  standing  over  a  ma 
chine  all  night."  She  shivered.  "  And  there  are 
some  of  us,  I'm  sure,"  she  went  on,  "  who  would 
feel  the  way  I  do  about  it." 

"  Well,— some,"  E.  Eliot  admitted.  "  Not  many, 
though.  And  then  there  are  the  merchants.  These 
are  great  times  for  them — town  crammed  with 
people,  all  making  money,  and  buying  right  and  left. 
And  then  there's  the  labor  vote  itself!  A  lot  of 
laboring  men  would  be  against  him.  Their  women 
just  now  are  earning  as  much  as  they  are.  There 
are  a  lot  of  these  men — whatever  they  might  say — 
who'd  take  good  care  not  to  vote  for  a  man  who 
would  prevent  their  daughters  from  bringing  in  the 
fifteen,  twenty,  or  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  they 
get  for  that  night  work. 

"  Well,  and  who  would  be  with  him  ?  Why,  the 
women  themselves.  The  one  chance  on  earth  he'd 
have  for  election  would  be  to  have  the  women  or 
ganized  and  working  for  him,  bringing  every  ounce 
of  influence  they  had  to  bear  on  their  men — on  all 
the  men  they  knew. 

"  Mind  you,  I  don't  believe  he  could  win  at  that. 


0     ^JifCr**' 
THE  STURDY  OAK  141 

But,  win  or  lose,  he'd  have  done  something.  He'd 
have  shown  the  women  that  they  needed  the  vote, 
and  he'd  have  found  out  for  himself — he  and  the 
other  men  who  believe  in  fair  human  treatment  for 
everybody — that  they  can't  secure  that  treatment 
without  women's  votes.  That's  the  real  issue.  It 
isn't  that  women  are  better  than  men,  or  that  they 
could  run  the  world  better  if  they  got  the  chance. 
It's  that  men  and  women  have  got  to  work  together 
to  do  the  things  that  need  doing." 

"  You're  perfectly  wonderful,"  said  Betty,  and 
sat  thereafter,  for  perhaps  a  minute  and  a  half,  in 
an  entranced  silence. 

Then,  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  a  straightening 
of  the  spine,  and  a  good,  deep,  business-like  pre 
liminary  breath,  she  turned  to  her  new  friend  and 
said,  "Well,  shall  we  do  it?" 

This  time  it  was  E.  Eliot's  turn  to  gasp. 

She  hadn't  expected  to  have  a  course  of  action 
put  up  to  her  in  that  instantaneous  and  almost  casual 
manner.  She  wasn't  young  like  Betty.  She'd  been 
working  hard  ever  since  she  was  seventeen  years 
old.  She'd  succeeded,  in  a  way,  to  be  sure.  But 


i42  THE  STURDY  OAK 

her  success  had  taught  her  how  hard  success  is  to 
obtain.  She  saw  much  farther  into  the  conse 
quences  of  the  proposed  campaign  than  Betty  could 
see.  She  realized  the  bitter  animosity  that  it  would 
provoke.  She  knew  it  was  well  within  the  prob 
abilities  that  her  business  would  be  ruined  by  it. 

She  sat  there  silent  for  a  while,  her  face  getting 
grimmer  and  grimmer  all  the  time.  But  she  turned 
at  last  and  looked  into  the  eager  face  of  the  girl 
beside  her,  and  she  smiled, — though  even  the  smile 
was  grim. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand  to 
bind  the  bargain.  "We'll  start  and  we'll  stick. 
And  here's  hoping!  We'd  better  lunch  together, 
hadn't  we?" 


CHAPTER  VII 
BY  ANNE  O'HAGAN 

MR.  BENJAMIN  DOOLITTLE,  by  profession  White 
water's  leading  furniture  dealer  and  funeral  di 
rector,  and  by  the  accident  of  political  fortune  the 
manager  of  Mr.  George  Remington's  campaign,  sat 
in  his  candidate's  private  office,  and  from  time 
to  time  restrained  himself  from  hasty  speech  by 
the  diplomatic  and  dexterous  use  of  a  quid  of 
tobacco. 

He  found  it  difficult  to  preserve  his  philosophy 

in  the  face  of  George  Remington's  agitation  over 
the  woman's  suffrage  issue. 

"  It's  the  last  time,"  he  had  frequently  informed 
his  political  cronies  since  the  opening  of  the  cam 
paign,  "  that  I'll  wet-nurse  a  new-fledged  candidate. 
They've  got  at  least  to  have  their  milk  teeth 
through  if  they  want  Benjamin  Doolittle  after 
this." 

143 


H4  THE  STURDY  OAK 

To  George,  itchingly  aware  through  all  his  rasped 
nerves  of  Mrs.  Herrington's  letter  in  that  morn 
ing's  Sentinel  asking  him  to  refute,  if  he  could,  an 
abominable  half  column  of  statistics  in  regard  to 
legislation  in  the  Woman  Suffrage  States,  the  fur 
niture  dealer  was  drawling  pacifically: 

"  Now,  George,  you  made  a  mistake  in  letting 
the  women  get  your  goat.  Don't  pay  no  attention 
to  them.  Of  course  their  game's  fair  enough.  I 
will  say  that  you  gave  them  their  opening;  stood 
yourself  for  a  target  with  that  statement  of  yours. 
Howsomever,  you  ain't  obligated  to  keep  on  acting 
as  the  nigger  head  in  the  shooting  gallery. 

"  Let  'em  write;  let  'em  ask  questions  in  the  pa 
pers;  let  'em  heckle  you  on  the  stump.  All  that 
you've  got  to  say  is  that  you've  expressed  your  per 
sonal  convictions  already,  and  that  you've  stood  by 
those  convictions  in  your  private  life,  and  that  as 
you  ain't  up  for  legislator,  the  question  don't  really 
concern  your  candidacy.  And  that,  as  you're  run 
ning  for  district  attorney,  you  will,  with  their  kind 
permission,  proceed  to  the  subjects  that  do  concern 
you  there — the  condition  of  the  court  calendar  of 


THE  STURDY  OAK  145 

Whitewater  County,  the  prosecution  of  the  race 
track  gamblers  out  at  Erie  Oval,  and  so  forth, 
and  so  forth. 

"  You  laid  yourself  open,  George,  but  you  ain't 
obligated  in  law  or  equity  to  keep  on  presenting 
yourself  bare  chest  for  their  outrageous  slings  and 


arrows." 


"  Of  course,  what  you  say  about  their  total  ir 
relevancy  is  quite  true,"  said  George,  making  the 
concession  so  that  it  had  all ;  the  belligerency  of  a 
challenge.  "  But  of  course  I  would  never  have 
consented  to  run  for  office  at  the  price  of  muzzling 
my  convictions." 

Mr.  Doolittle  wearily  agreed  that  that  was  more 
than  could  be  expected  from  any  candidate  of  the 
high  moral  worth  of  George  Remington.  Then 
he  went  over  a  list  of  places  throughout  the  county 
where  George  was  to  speak  during  the  next  week, 
and  intimated  dolefully  that  the  committee  could 
use  a  little  more  money,  if  it  had  it. 

He  expressed  it  thus  :  "  A  few  more  contributions 
wouldn't  put  any  strain  to  speak  of  on  our  pants' 
pockets.  Anything  more  to  be  got  out  of  Old  Mar- 


146  THE  STURDY  OAK 

tin  Jaffry?  Don't  he  realize  that  blood's  thicker 
than  water?" 

"  I'll  speak  to  him,"  growled  George. 

He  hated  Mr.  Benjamin  Doolittle's  colloquialisms, 
though  once  he  had  declared  them  amusing,  racy, 
of  the  soil,  and  had  rebuked  Genevieve's  fastidious 
criticisms  of  them  on  an  occasion  when  she  had 
interpreted  her  role  of  helpmeet  to  include  that  of 
hostess  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Doolittle — oh,  not  in  her 
own  home,  of  course ! — at  luncheon,  at  the  Country 
Club! 

"  Well,  I  guess  that's  about  all  for  today." 

Mr.  Doolittle  brought  the  conference  to  a  close, 
hoisting  himself  by  links  from  his  chair. 

"  It  takes  $3000  every  time  you  circularize  the 
constituency,  you  know " 

He  lounged  toward  the  window  and  looked  out 
again  upon  the  pleasant,  mellow  scene  around 
Fountain  Square.  And  with  the  look  his  affecta 
tion  of  bucolic  calm  dropped  from  him.  He  turned 
abruptly. 

"  What's  that  going  on  at  McMonigal's  corner  ?  " 
he  demanded  sharply. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  147 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,"  said  George,  with 
indifference,  still  bent  upon  teaching  his  manager 
that  he  was  a  free  and  independent  citizen,  in  lead 
ing  strings  to  no  man.  "  It's  been  vacant  since  the 
fire  in  March,  when  Petrosini's  fish  market  and  Miss 
Letterblair's  hat  st " 

He  had  reached  the  window  himself  by  this  time, 
and  the  sentence  was  destined  to  remain  forever 
unfinished. 

From  the  low,  old-fashioned  brick  building  on 
the  northeast  corner  of  Fountain  Square,  whose 
boarded  eyes  had  stared  blindly  across  toward  the 
glittering  orbs  of  its  towering  neighbor,  the  Jaffry 
Building,  for  six  months,  a  series  of  great  placards 
flared. 

Planks  had  been  removed  from  the  windows, 
plate  glass  restored,  and  behind  it  he  read  in  damn 
able  irritation: 

"  SOME  QUESTIONS  FOR  CANDIDATE  REMINGTON." 

A  foot  high,  an  inch  broad,  black  as  Erebus,  the 
letters  shouted  at  him  against  an  orange  background. 


148  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Every  window  of  the  second  story  contained  a 
placard.  On  the  first  story,  in  the  show  window 
where  Petrosini  had  been  wont  to  ravish  epicurean 
eyes  by  shad  and  red  snapper,  perch  and  trout,  cun 
ningly  imbedded  in  ice  blocks  upon  a  marble  slab — 
in  that  window,  framed  now  in  the  hated  orange 
and  black,  stood  a  woman. 

She  was  turning  backward,  for  the  benefit  of  on 
lookers  who  pressed  close  to  the  glass,  the  leaves 
of  a  mammoth  pad  resting  upon  an  easel. 

From  their  point  of  vantage  in  the  second  story 
of  the  Jaffry  Building,  the  candidate  and  his  man 
ager  could  see  that  each  sheet  bore  that  horrid 
headline : 

"  QUESTIONS  FOR  CANDIDATE  REMINGTON." 

The  whole  population  of  Whitewater,  it  seemed 
to  George,  was  crowded  about  that  corner. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  said  Benjie  Doolittle, 
disappearing  through  the  private  office  door  with 
the  black  tails  of  his  coat  achieving  a  true  hori 
zontal  behind  him.  As  statesman  and  as  undertaker, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  149 

Mr.  Doolittle  never  swerved  from  the  garment 
which  keeps  green  the  memory  of  the  late  Prince 
Consort. 

As  the  door  opened,  the  much-tried  George  Rem 
ington  had  a  glimpse  of  that  pleasing  industrial 
unit,  Betty  Sheridan,  searching  through  the  file  for 
the  copy  of  the  letter  to  the  Cummunipaw  Steel 
Works,  which  he  had  recently  demanded  to  see. 
He  pressed  the  buzzer  imperiously,  and  Betty  re 
sponded  with  duteous  haste.  .He  pointed  through 
the  window  to  the  crowd  in  front  of  McMonigal's 
block. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  with  what  seemed  to  him 
Spartan  self-restraint,  "you  can  explain  the  mean 
ing  of  that  scene." 

Betty  looked  out  with  an  air  of  intelligent  in 
terest. 

"  Oh  yes !  "  she  said  vivaciously.  "  I  think  I  can. 
It's  a  Voiceless  Speech." 

"  A  voice  1 — "  George's  own  face  was  a  voice 
less  speech  as  he  repeated  two  syllables  of  his  stenog 
rapher's  explanation. 

'  Yes.    Don't  you  know  about  voiceless  speeches  ? 


150  THE  STURDY  OAK 

It's  antiquated  to  try  to  run  any  sort  of  a  campaign 
without  them  nowadays." 

"  Perhaps  you  also  know  who  that — female — " 
again  George's  power  of  utterance  failed  him. 
Betty  came  closer  to  the  window  and  peered 
out. 

"It's  Frances  Herrington  who  is  turning  the 
leaves  now,"  she  said  amiably.  "  I  know  her  by 
that  ducky  toque." 

"  Frances  Herrington !  What  Harvey  Herring- 
ton  is  thinking  of  to  allow "  George's  emotion 

constrained  him  to  broken  utterance.  "  And  we're 
dining  there  tonight !  She  has  no  sense  of  the  de 
cencies — the — the — the  hospitality  of  existence.  We 
won't  go — I'll  telephone  Genevieve " 

"  Fie,  fie  Georgie !  "  observed  Betty.  "  Why  be 
personal  over  a  mere  detail  of  a  political  cam 
paign?" 

But  before  George  could  tell  her  why  his  indig 
nation  against  his  prospective  hostess  was  imper 
sonal  and  unemotional,  the  long  figure  of  Mr.  Doo- 
little  again  projected  itself  upon  the  scene. 

Betty  effaced  herself,  gliding  from  the  inner  of- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  151 

fice,  and  George  turned  a  look  of  inquiry  upon  his 
manager. 

"Well?"  the  monosyllable  had  all  the  force  of 
profanity. 

• "  Well,  the  women,  durn  them,  have  brought  suf 
frage  into  your  campaign." 

"How?" 

"  How  ?  They've  got  a  list  of  every  blamed  law 
on  the  statute  books  relating  to  women  and  children, 
and  they're  asking  on  that  sheet  of  leaves  over  there, 
if  you  mean  to  proceed  against  all  who  are  break 
ing  those  laws  here  in  Whitewater  County.  And 
right  opposite  your  own  office!  It's — it's  damn 
smart.  You  ought  to  have  got  that  Herrington 
woman  on  your  committee." 

"  It's  indelicate,  unwomanly,  indecent.  It  shows 
into  what  unsexed  degradation  politics  will  drag 
woman.  But  I'm  relieved  that  that's  all  they're 
asking.  Of  course,  I  shall  enforce  the  law  for  the 
protection  of  every  class  in  our  community  with 
all  the  power  of  the " 

"  Oh,  shucks !  There's  nobody  here  but  me — 
you  needn't  unfurl  Old  Glory,"  counseled  Mr.  Doo- 


V 


152  THE  STURDY  OAK 

little,  a  trifle  impatiently.  "  They're  asking  real 
questions,  not  blowing  off  hot-air.  Oh,  I  say,  who 
owns  McMonigal's  block  since  the  old  man  died? 
We'll  have  the  owner  stop  this  circus.  That's  the 
first  thing  to  do." 

"  I'll  telephone  Allen.    He'll  know." 

Allen's  office  was  very  obliging  and  would  report 
on  the  ownership  on  McMonigal's  block  in  ten 
minutes. 

Mr.  Doolittle  employed  the  interval  in  repeating 
to  George  some  of  the  "  Questions  for  Candidate 
Remington,"  illegible  from  George's  desk. 

"  You  believe  that  '  WOMAN'S  PLACE  IS  IN 
THE  HOME.'  Will  you  enforce  the  law  against 
woman's  night  work  in  the  factories?  Over  nine 
hundred  women  of  Whitewater  County  are  doing 
night  work  in  the  munition  plants  of  Airport, 
Whitewater  and  Ondegonk.  What  do  you  mean  to 
do  about  it?" 

"You  '  DESIRE  TO  CONSERVE  THE 
THREATENED  FLOWER  OF  WOMAN 
HOOD.  '  " 

A  critical  listener  would  have  caught  a  note  of 


THE  STURDY  OAK  153 

ribald  scorn  in  Mr.  Doolittle's  drawl,  as  he  quoted 
from  his  candidate's  statement,  via  the  voiceless 
speech  placards. 

"  To  conserve  the  threatened  flower  of  woman 
hood,  the  grape  canneries  of  Omega  and  Onicrom 
Townships  are  employing  children  of  five  and  six 
years  in  defiance  of  the  Child  Labor  Law  of 
this  State.  Are  you  going  to  proceed  against 
them?" 

" '  WOMAN  IS  MAN'S  RAREST  HERI 
TAGE.'  Do  you  think  man  ought  to  burn  her 
alive?  Remember  the  Livingston  Loomis-Ladd 
collar  factory  fire — fourteen  women  killed,  forty- 
eight  maimed.  In  how  many  of  the  factories  in 
Whitewater,  in  which  women  work,  are  the  fire 
laws  obeyed?  Do  you  mean  to  enforce  them?" 

The  telephone  interrupted  Mr.  Doolittle's  hateful 
litany. 

Allen's  bright  young  man  begged  to  report  that 
McMonigal's  block  was  held  in  fee  simple  by  the 
widow  of  the  late  Michael  McMonigal. 

Mr.  Doolittle  juggled  the  leaves  of  the  telephone 
directory  with  the  dazzling  swiftness  of  a  Japanese 


A 


154  THE  STURDY  OAK 

ball  thrower,  and  in  a  few  seconds  he  was  speaking 
to  the  relict  of  the  late  Michael. 

George  watched  him  with  fevered  eyes,  listened 
with  fevered  ears.  The  conversation,  it  was  easy 
to  gather,  did  not  proceed  as  Mr.  Doolittle  wished. 

"  Oh !  in  entire  charge — E.  Eliot.  Oh !  In  sym 
pathy  yourself.  Oh,  come  now,  Mrs.  McMoni- 
gal " 

But  Mrs.  McMonigal  did  not  come  now.  The 
campaign  manager  frowned  as  he  replaced  the  re 
ceiver. 

"  Widow  owns  the  place.  That  Eliot  woman  is 
the  agent.  The  suffrage  gang  has  the  owner's  per 
mission  to  use  the  building  from  now  on  to  elec 
tion.  She  says  she's  in  sympathy.  Well,  we'll  have 
to  think  of  something " 

"It's  easy  enough,"  declared  George.  "Til 
simply  have  a  set  of  posters  printed  answering  their 
questions.  And  we'll  engage  sandwich  men  to  carry 
them  in  front  of  McMonigal's  windows.  Certainly 
I  mean  to  enforce  the  law.  I'll  give  the  order  to 
the  Sentinel  press  now  for  the  answers — definite, 
dignified  answers." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  155 

"  See  here,  George."  Mr.  Doolittle  interrupted 
him  with  unusual  weightiness  of  manner.  "  It's 
too  far  along  in  the  campaign  for  you  to  go 
flying  off  on  your  own.  You've  got  to  consult 
your  managers.  This  is  your  first  campaign;  it's 
my  thirty-first.  You've  got  to  take  advice " 

"  I  will  not  be  muzzled." 

"  Shucks !  Who  wants  to  muzzle  anybody !  But 
you  can't  say  everything  that's  inside  of  you,  can 
you?  There's  got  to  be  some  choosing.  We've 
got  to  help  you  choose. 

"  The  silly  questions  the  women  are  displaying 
over  there — -you  can't  answer  'em  in  a  word  or 
in  two  words.  This  city  is  having  a  boom;  every 
valve  factory  in  the  valley,  every  needle  and  pin 
factory,  is  makin'  munitions  today — valves  and 
needles  and  pins  all  gone  by  the  board  for  the  time 
being.  Money's  never  been  so  plenty  in  White 
water  County  and  this  city  is  feelin'  the  benefits 
of  it.  People  are  buying  things — clothes,  flour,  fur 
niture,  victrolas,  automobiles,  rum. 

"  There  ain't  a  merchant  of  any  description  in 
this  county  but  his  business  is  booming  on  account 


156  THE  STURDY  OAK 

of  the  work  in  the  factories.  You  can't  antagonize 
the  whole  population  of  the  place.  Why,  I  dare 
say,  some  of  your  own  money  and  Mrs.  Reming 
ton's  is  earning  three  times  what  it  was  two  years 
ago.  The  First  National  Bank  has  just  declared  a 
fifteen  per  cent,  dividend,  and  Martin  Jaffry  owns 
fifty-four  per  cent,  of  the  stock. 

"  You  don't  want  to  put  brakes  on  prosperity. 

\J  It  ain't  decent  citizenship  to  try  it.  It  ain't  neigh 
borly.  Think  of  the  lean  years  we've  known.  You 
can't  do  it.  This  war  won't  last  forever — "  Mr. 
Doolittle's  voice  was  tinged  with  regret — "  and  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  go  in  for  playing  the  deuce 
with  business  when  business  gets  slack  again.  That's 
the  time  for  reforms,  George, — when  things  are 

/,       dull." 

George  was  silent,  the  very  presentment  of  a 
sorely  harassed  young  man.  He  had  not,  even  in 
a  year  when  blamelessness  rather  than  experience 
was  his  party's  supreme  need  in  a  candidate,  be 
come  its  banner  bearer  without  possessing  certain 
political  apperceptions.  He  knew,  as  Benjie  Doo- 
little  spoke,  that  Benjie  spoke  the  truth— White- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  157 

water  city  and  county  would  never  elect  a  man  who 
had  too  convincingly  promised  to  interfere  with  the 
prosperity  of  the  city  and  county. 

"  Better  stick  to  the  gambling  out  at  Erie 
Oval,  George/'  counseled  the  campaign  manager. 
"  They're  mostly  New  Yorkers  that  are  interested 
in  that,  anyway." 

"  I'll  not  reply  without  due  consideration  and — 
er — notice,"  George  sullenly  acceded  to  his  man 
ager  and  to  necessity.  But  he  ,hated  both  Doolittle 
and  necessity  at  the  moment. 

That  sun-bright  vision  of  himself  which  so 
splendidly  and  sustainingly  companioned  him,  which 
spoke  in  his  most  sonorous  periods,  which  so  com 
pletely  and  satis fyingly  commanded  the  reverence  of 
Genevieve — that  George  Remington  of  his  brave 
imaginings  would  not  thus  have  answered  Benjamin 
Doolittle. 

Through  the  silence  following  the  furniture  man's 
departure,  Betty,  at  the  typewriter,  clicked  upon 
Georgie's  ears.  An  evil  impulse  assailed  him — im 
politic,  too,  as  he  realized — impolitic  but  irresist 
ible.  It  was  the  easiest  way  in  which  candidate 


158  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Remington,  heckled  by  suffragists,  overridden  by 
his  campaign  committee,  mortifyingly  tormented  by 
a  feeling  of  inadequacy,  could  re-establish  himself 
in  his  own  esteem  as  a  man  of  prompt  and  righteous 
decisions. 

He   might   not    be   able   to    run   his   campaign 
; 

to  suit  himself,  but,  by  Jove,  his  office  was  his 

own! 

He  went  into  Betty's  quarters  and  suggested  to 
her  that  a  due  sense  of  the  eternal  fitness  of  things 
would  cause  her  to  offer  him  her  resignation,  which 
his  own  sense  of  the  eternal  fitness  of  things  would 
lead  him  at  once  to  accept. 

It  seemed,  he  said,  highly  indecorous  of  her  to 
remain  in  the  employ"  of  Remington  and  Evans  the 
while  she  was  busily  engaged  in  trying  to  thwart 
the  ambitions  of  the  senior  partner.  He  marveled 
that  woman's  boasted  sensitiveness  had  not  already 
led  her  to  perceive  this  for  herself. 

For  a  second,  Betty  seemed  startled,  even  hurt. 
She  colored  deeply  and  her  eyes  darkened.  Then 
the  flush  of  surprise  and  the  wounded  feeling  died. 
She  looked  at  him  blankly  and  asked  how  soon  it 


THE  STURDY  OAK  159 

would  be  possible  for  him  to  replace  her.  She 
would  leave  as  soon  as  he  desired. 

In  her  bearing,  so  much  quieter  than  usual,  in 
the  look  in  her  face,  George  read  a  whole  volume. 
He  read  that  up  to  this  time,  Betty  had  regarded 
her  presence  in  the  ranks  of  his  political  enemies 
as  she  would  have  regarded  being  opposed  to  him 
in  a  tennis  match.  He  read  that  he,  with  that  bit 
ing  little  speech  which  he  already  wished  unspoken, 
had  given  her  a  sudden,  sinister  illumination  upon 
the  relations  of  working  women  to  their  employers. 

He  read  the  question  in  the  back  of  her  mind. 
Suppose  (so  it  ran  in  his  constructive  fancy)  that 
instead  of  being  a  prosperous,  protected  young 
woman  playing  the  wage-earner  more  or  less  as 
Marie  Antoinette  had  played  the  milkmaid,  she  had 
been  Mamie  Riley  across  the  hall,  whose  work 
was  bitter  earnest,  whose  earnings  were  not  pin- 
money,  but  bread  and  meat  and  brother's  schooling 
and  mother's  health — would  George  still  have  made 
the  stifling  of  her  views  the  price  of  her  position? 

And  if  George — George,  the  kind,  friendly,  clean- 
minded  man  would  drive  that  bargain,  what  bar- 


160  THE  STURDY  OAK 

gain  might  not  other  men,  less  gentle,  less  noble, 
drive  ? 

All  this  George's  unhappily  sensitized  conscience 
read  into  Betty  Sheridan's  look,  even  as  the  imp 
who  urged  him  on  bade  him  tell  her  that  she  could 
leave  at  her  own  convenience;  at  once,  if  she 
pleased;  the  supply  of  stenographers  in  Whitewater 
was  adequately  at  demand. 

He  rather  wished  that  Penny  Evans  would  come 
in;  Penny  would  doubtless  take  a  high  hand  with 
him  concerning  the  episode,  and  there  was  nothing 
which  George  Remington  would  have  welcomed  like 
an  antagonist  of  his  own  size  and  sex. 

But  Penny  did  not  appear,  and  the  afternoon 
passed  draggingly  for  the  candidate  for  the  dis 
trict  attorneyship.  He  tried  to  busy  himself  with 
the  affairs  of  his  clients,  but  even  when  he  could 
keep  away  from  his  windows  he  was  aware  of  the 
crowds  in  front  of  McMonigal's  block,  of  Frances 
Herrington,  her  "  ducky  "  toque  and  her  infernal 
voiceless  speech. 

And  when,  for  a  second,  he  was  able  to  forget 
these,  he  heard  from  the  outer  office  the  unmistak- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  161 

able  sounds  of  a  desk  being  permanently  cleared  of 
i  its  present  incumbent's  belongings. 

After  a  while,  Betty  bade  him  a  too  courteous 
I  good-by,  still  with  that  abominable  new  air  of 
gravely  readjusting  her  old  impressions  of  him.  / 
And  then  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  home 
and  make  ready  for  dinner  at  the  Herrington's, 
unless  he  could  induce  Genevieve  to  have  an  op 
portune  headache. 

Of  course  Betty  had  been  right.  Not  upon  his 
masculine -shoulders  should  there  be  laid  the  absurd 
burden  of  political  chagrin  strong  enough  to  break 
a  social  engagement. 

Genevieve  was  in  her  room.  The  library  was 
given  over  to  Alys  Brewster-Smith,  Cousin  Eme- 
lene  Brand,  two  rusty  callers  and  the  tea  things. 
Before  the  drawing-room  fire,  Hanna  slept  in 
Maltese  proprietorship.  George  longed  with  passion 
to  kick  the  cat. 

Genevieve,  as  he  saw  through  the  open  door,  sat 
by  the  window.  She  had,  it  appeared,  but  recently 
come  in.  She  still  wore  her  hat  and  coat;  she  had 
not  even  drawn  off  her  gloves.  And  seeing  her 


162  THE  STURDY  OAK 

thus,  absorbed  in  some  problem,  George's  sense  of 
his  wrongs  grew  greater. 

He  had,  he  told  himself,  hurried  home  out  of  the 
jar  and  fret  of  a  man's  day  to  find  balm,  to  feel 
the  cool  fingers  of  peace  pressed  upon  hot  eyelids, 
to  drink  strengthening  draughts  of  refreshment 
from  his  wife's  unquestioning  belief,  from  the  com 
pleteness  of  her  absorption  in  him.  And  here  she 
sat  thinking  of  something  else! 

Genevieve  arose,  a  little  startled  as  he  snapped 
on  the  lights  and  grunted  out  something  which 
optimism  might  translate  into  an  affectionate  hus 
bandly  greeting.  She  came  dutifully  forward  and 
raised  her  face,  still  exquisite  and  cool  from  the 
outer  air,  for  her  lord's  home-coming  kiss.  That 
resolved  itself  into  a  slovenly  peck. 

"Been  out?"  asked  George  unnecessarily.  He 
tried  to  quell  the  unreasonable  inclination  to  find 
her  lacking  in  wifely  devotion  because  she  had  been 
out. 

"  Yes.  There  was  a  meeting  at  the  Woman's 
Forum  this  afternoon,"  she  answered.  She  was 
unpinning  her  hat  before  the  pier  glass,  and  in  it  he 


THE  STURDY  OAK  163 

could  see  the  reflection  of  her  eyes  turned  upon  his 
image  with  a  questioning  look. 

"  The  ladies  seem  to  be  having  a  busy  day  of  it." 

He  struggled  not  quite  successfully  to  be  facetious 
over  the  pretty,  negligible  activities  of  his  wife's  sex. 
"  What  mighty  theme  engaged  your  attention?" 

"That  Miss  Eliot — the  real  estate  woman,  you 
know — "  George  stiffened  into  an  attitude  of 
close  attention — "  spoke  about  the  conditions  under 
which  women  are  working  in  the  mills  in  this  city 
and  in  the  rest  of  the  county — "  Genevieve 
averted  her  mirrored  eyes  from  his  mirrored  face. 
She  moved  toward  her  dressing-table. 

"  Oh,  she  did !  and  is  the  Woman's  Forum  go 
ing  to  come  to  grips  with  the  industrial  monster  and 
bring  in  the  millennium  by  the  first  of  the  year  ?  " 

But  George  was  painfully  aware  that  light  banter 
which  fails  to  be  convincingly  light  is  but  a  snarl. 

Genevieve  colored  slightly  as  she  studied  the 
condition  of  a  pair  of  long  white  gloves  which  she 
had  taken  from  a  drawer. 

"  Of  course  the  Woman's  Forum  is  only  for  dis 
cussion,"  she  said  mildly.  "  It  doesn't  initiate  any 


1 64  THE  STURDY  OAK 

action."  Then  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  and 
George  felt  his  universe  reel  about  him. 

For  his  wife's  beautiful  eyes  were  turned  upon 
him,  not  in  limpid  adoration,  not  in  perfect  accept 
ance  of  all  his  views,  unheard,  unweighed;  but  with 
a  question  in  their  blue  depths. 

The  horrid  clairvoyance  which  harassment  and 
self-distrust  had  given  him  that  afternoon  enabled 
him,  he  thought,  to  translate  that  look.  The  Eliot 
woman,  in  her  speech  before  the  Woman's  Forum, 
had  doubtless  placed  the  responsibility  for  the  con 
tinuation  of  those  factory  conditions  upon  the  dis 
trict  attorney's  office,  had  doubtless  repeated  those 
damn  fool,  impractical  questions  which  the  suffra 
gists  were  displaying  in  McMonigal's  windows. 

And  Genevieve  was  asking  them  in  her  mind! 
Genevieve  was  questioning  him,  his  motives,  his 
standards,  his  intentions !  Genevieve  was  not  in 
tellectually  a  charming  mechanical  doll  who  would 
always  answer  "  yes "  and  "  no "  as  he  pressed 
the  strings,  and  maintain  a  comfortable  vacuity 
when  he  was  not  at  hand  to  perform  the  kindly  act. 
Genevieve  was  thinking  on  her  own  account. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  165 

What,  he  wondered  angrily,  as  he  dressed — for  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  ask  her  aid  in  escaping 
the  Herringtons  and,  indeed,  was  suddenly  balky 
at  the  thought  of  the  intimacies  of  a  domestic  eve 
ning — what  was  she  thinking  ?  She  was  not  such 
an  imbecile  as  to  be  unaware  how  large  a  share  of 
her  comfortable  fortune  was  invested  in  the  local 
industry.  Why,  her  father  had  been  head  of  the  , 
1  Livingston  Loomis-Ladd  Collar  Company,  when 
that  dreadful  fire — !  And  she  certainly  knew  that 
his  uncle,  Martin  Jaffry,  was  the  chief  stockholder 
in  the  Jaffry-Bradshaw  Company. 

What    was    the    question    in    Genevieve's    eyes?X/ 
Was  she  asking  if  he  were  the  knight  of  those 
women  who  worked  and  sweated  and  burned,  or 
of  her  and  the  comfortable  women  of  her  class, 
of  Alys  Brewster-Smith  with  her  little  cottages,  of 
Cousin  Emelene  with  her  little  stocks,  of  masque 
rading  Betty  Sheridan  whose  sortie  of  independence 
was  from  the  safe  vantage-grounds  of  entrenched    • 
privilege  ? 

And  all  that  evening  as  he  watched  his  wife  across 
the  crystal  and  the  roses  of  the  Herrington  table, 


1 66  THE  STURDY  OAK 

trying  to  interpret  the  question  that  had  been  in  her 
eyes,  trying  to  interpret  her  careful  silence,  he  real 
ized  what  every  husband  sooner  or  later  awakes  to 
realize — that  he  had  married  a  stranger. 

He  did  not  know  her.  He  did  not  know  what 
ambitions,  what  aspirations  apart  from  him,  ruled 
the  spirit  behind  that  charming  surface  of  flesh. 

Of  course  she  was  good,  of  course  she  was  tender, 
of  course  she  was  high-minded!  But  how  wide- 
enveloping  was  the  cloak  of  her  goodness?  How 
far  did  her  tenderness  reach  out?  Was  her  high- 
mindedness  of  the  practical  or  impractical  variety? 

From  time  to  time,  he  caught  her  eyes  in  turn 
upon  him,  with  that  curious  little  look  of  re-exam 
ination  in  their  depths.  She  could  look  at  him  like 
that!  She  could  look  at  him  as  though  appraisals 
were  possible  from  a  wife  to  a  husband! 

They  avoided  industrial  Whitewater  County  as 
a  topic  when  they  left  the  Herrington's.  They 
talked  with  great  animation  and  interest  of  the 
people  at  the  party.  Arrived  at  home,  George, 
pleading  press  of  work,  went  down  into  the  library 
while  Genevieve  went  to  bed.  Carefully  they  post- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  167 

poned  the  moment  of  making  articulate  all  that, 
remaining  unspoken,  might  be  ignored. 

It  was  one  o'clock  and  he  had  not  moved  a  paper 
for  an  hour,  when  the  library  door  opened. 

Genevieve  stood  there.  She  had  sometimes  come 
before  when  he  had  worked  at  night,  to  chide  him 
|  for  neglecting  sleep,  to  bring  bouillon  or  chocolate. 
But  tonight  she  did  neither. 

She  did  not  come  far  into  the  room,  but  standing 
inear  the  door  and  looking  at  him  with  a  new  ex 
pression — patient,  tender,  the  everlasting  eternal 
look — she  said :  "  I  couldn't  sleep,  either.  I  came 
down  to  say  something,  George.  Don't  interrupt 

me "  for  he  was  coming  toward  her  with  sounds 

of  affectionate  protest  at  her  being  out  of  bed. 

Don't  speak!  I  want  to  say— whatever  you  do, 
iwhatever  you  decide — now — always — I  love  you. 
JEven  if  I  don't  agree,  I  love  you." 

She  turned  and  went  swiftly  away. 

George  stood  looking  at  the  place  where  she  had 
stood, — this  strange,  new  Genevieve,  who,  promis- 
jing  to  love,  reserved  the  right  to  judge. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BY  MARY  HEATON  VORSE 

THE  high  moods  of  night  do  not  always  survive 
the  clear,  cold  light  of  day.  Indeed  it  requires  the 
contribution  of  both  man  and  wife  to  keep  a  high 
mood  in  married  life. 

Genevieve  had  gone  in  to  make  her  profession 
of  faith  to  her  husband  in  a  mood  which  touched 
the  high  altitudes.  She  had  gone  without  any  con 
scious  expectation  of  anything  from  him  in  the  way 
of  response.  She  had  vaguely  but  confidingly  ex 
pected  him  to  live  up  to  the  moment. 

She  had  expected  something  beautiful,  a  lovely 
flower  of  the  spirit — comprehension,  generosity. 
Living  up  to  the  demand  of  the  moment  was 
George's  forte.  Indeed,  there  were  those  among 
his  friends  who  felt  that  there  were  moments  when 
George  lived  up  to  things  too  brightly  and  too  beau 
tifully.  His  Uncle  Jaffry,  for  instance,  had  his 

168 


THE  STURDY  OAK  169 

openly  skeptical  moments.  But  George  even  lived 
up  to  his  uncle's  skepticism.  He  accepted  his  re 
marks  with  charming  good  humor.  It  was  his 
pride  that  he  could  laugh  at  himself. 

At  the  moment  of  Genevieve's  touching  speech 
he  lived  up  to  exactly  nothing.  He  didn't  even 
smile.  He  only  stared  at  her — a  stare  which 
said: 

"  Now  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

Genevieve  had  a  flicker  of  bitter  humor  when 
she  compared  her  moment  of  sentiment  to  a  toy 
balloon  pulled  down  from  the  blue  by  an  unsympa 
thetic  hand. 

The  next  morning,  while  George  was  still  shav 
ing,  the  telephone  rang.  -It  was  Betty. 

"  Can  you  have  lunch  with  me  at  Thome's, 
where  we  can  talk  ?  "  she  asked  Genevieve.  "  And 
give  me  a  little  time  tomorrow  afternoon?  " 

"  Why,"  Genevieve  responded,  "  I  thought  you 
were  a  working  girl." 

There  was  a  perceptible  pause  before  Betty  re 
plied. 

"Hasn't  George  told  you?" 


170  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Told  what  ?  "  Genevieve  inquired.  "  George 
hasn't  told  me  anything." 

"  I've  left  the  office." 

"Left!     For  heaven's  sake,  why?" 

Betty's  mind  worked  swiftly. 

"  Better  treat  it  as  a  joke,"  was  her  decision. 
There  was  no  pause  before  she  answered. 

"  Oh,  trouble  with  the  boss." 

"  You'll  get  over  it.  You're  always  having 
trouble  with  Penny. 

"Oh,"  said  Betty,  "it's  not  with  Penny  this 
time." 

"Not  with  George?" 

"  Yes,  with  George,"  Betty  answered.  "  Did  you 
think  one  couldn't  quarrel  with  the  noblest  of  his 
sex?  Well,  one  can." 

"  Oh,  Betty,  I'm  sorry."  Genevieve's  tone  was 
slightly  reproachful. 

"Well,  I'm  not,"  said  Betty.  "I  like  my 
present  job  better.  It  was  a  good  thing  he  fired 


me." 


"  Fired  you !    George  fired  you?  " 

"  Sure  thing,"  responded  Betty  blithely.    "  I  can't 


THE  STURDY  OAK  171 

stand  here  talking  all  day.  What  I  want  to  know 
is,  can  I  see  you  at  lunch?  " 

"  Yes — why,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Genevieve, 
dazedly.  Then  she  hung  up  the  receiver  and  stared 
into  space. 

George,  beautifully  dressed,  tall  and  handsome, 
now  emerged  from  his  room.  For  once  his  adoring 
wife  failed  to  notice  that  in  appearance  he  rivaled 
the  sun  god.  She  had  one  thing  she  wanted  to 
know,  and  she  wanted  to  know  it  badly.  It  was, 

"Why  did  you  fire  Betty  Sheridan?" 

She  asked  this  in  the  insulting  "  point  of  the 
bayonet "  tone  which  angry  equals  use  to  one  an- 
i  other  the  world  over. 

Either  question  or  tone  would  have  been  enough 
to  have  put  George's  already  sensitive  nerves  on 
edge.  Both  together  were  unbearable.  It  was, 
when  you  came  down  to  it,  the  most  awkward  ques 
tion  in  the  world. 

Why,  indeed,  had  he  fired  Betty  Sheridan?  He 
hadn't  really  given  himself  an  account  of  the  in 
ward  reasons  yet.  The  episode  had  been  too  dis 
turbing;  and  it  was  George's  characteristic  to  put 


172  THE  STURDY  OAK 

off  looking  on  unpleasant  facts  as  long  as  possible. 
Had  he  been  really  hard  up,  which  he  never  had 
been,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  put  away,  un 
opened,  the  bills  he  couldn't  pay.  Life  was  already 
presenting  him  with  the  bill  of  yesterday's  ill  humor, 
and  he  was  not  yet  ready  to  add  up  the  amount. 
He  hid  himself  now  behind  the  austerity  of  the 
offended  husband. 

"  My  dear,"  he  inquired  in  his  turn,  "  don't  you 
think  that  you  had  best  leave  the  details  of  my  office 
to  me?" 

He  knew  how  lame  this  was,  and  how  inadequate, 
before  Genevieve  replied. 

"  Betty  Sheridan  is  not  a  detail  of  your  office. 
She's  one  of  my  best  friends,  and  I  want  to  know 
why  you  fired  her.  I  dare  say  she  was  exasperating ; 
but  I  can't  see  any  reason  why  you  should  have  done 
it.  You  should  have  let  her  leave." 

It  was  Betty,  with  that  lamentable  lack  of  delicacy 
which  George  had  pointed  out  to  her,  who  had  not 
been  ready  to  leave. 

"  You  will  have  to  let  me  be  the  judge  of  what  I 
should  or  should  not  have  done,"  said  George. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  173 

This  piece  of  advice  Genevieve  ignored. 

"  Why  did  you  send  her  away  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I  sent  her  away,  if  you  want  to  know,  for  her 
insolence  and  her  damned  bad  taste.  If  you  think — 
working  in  my  office  as  she  was — it's  decent  or 
proper  on  her  part  to  be  active  in  a  campaign  that 
is  against  me " 

"  You  mean  because  she's  a  suffragist  ?  You  sent 
her  away  for  that!  Why,  really,  that's  tyranny! 
It's  like  my  sending  away  some  one  working  for  me 
for  her  beliefs " 

They  stood  staring  at  each  other,  not  question- 
ingly  as  they  had  yesterday,  but  as  enemies, — the 
greater  enemies  that  they  so  loved  each  other. 

Because  of  that  each  word  of  unkindness  was  a 
doubled-edged  sword.  They  quarreled.  It  was  the 
first  time  that  they  had  seen  each  other  without 
illusion.  They  had  been  to  each  other  the  ideal, 
the  lover,  husband,  wife. 

Now,  in  the  dismay  of  his  amazement  in  find 
ing  himself  quarreling  with  the  perfect  wife,  a 
vagrant  memory  came  to  George  that  he  had  heard 
that  Genevieve  had  a  hot  temper. 


174  THE  STURDY  OAK 

She  certainly  had.  He  didn't  notice  how  hand 
some  she  looked  kindled  with  anger.  He  only  knew 
that  the  rose  garden  in  which  they  lived  was  being 
destroyed  by  their  angry  hands ;  that  the  very  foun 
dation  of  the  life  they  had  been  leading  was  being 
undermined. 

The  time  of  mirage  and  glamour  was  over.  He 
had  ceased  being  a  hero  and  an  ideal,  and  why? 
Because,  forgetting  his  past  life,  his  record,  his 
achievement,  Genevieve  obstinately  insisted  on  iden 
tifying  him  with  one  single  mistake.  He  was  will 
ing  to  concede  it  was  a  mistake.  She  had  not  only 
identified  him  with  it,  but  she  had  called  him  a 
number  of  wounding  things. 

"  Tyrant  "  was  the  least  of  them,  and,  worse  than 
that,  she  had,  in  a  very  fury  of  temper,  told  him 
that  he  "  needn't  take  that  pompous  " — yes,  "  pom 
pous  "  had  been  her  unpleasant  word — "  tone  "  with 
her,  when  he  had  inquired,  more  in  sorrow  than  in 
anger,  if  this  were  really  his  Genevieve  speaking. 

There  was  a  pause  in  their  hostilities.  They 
looked  at  each  other  aghast.  Aghast,  they  had  per 
ceived  the  same  awful  truth.  Each  saw  that  love 


'You  mean  because  she's  a  suffragist?     You  sent  her  away 
for  that?    Why,  really,  that's  tyranny!" 


THE  STURDY  OAK  175 

in  the  other's  heart  was  dead,  and  that  things  never 
could  be  the  same  again.  So  they  stood  look 
ing  down  this  dark  gulf,  and  the  light  of  anger 
died. 

In  a  toneless  voice :  "  We  mustn't  let  Cousin 
Emelene  and  Alys  hear  us  quarreling,"  said  George. 
And  Genevieve  answered,  "  They've  gone  down  to 
breakfast." 

The  two  ladies  were  seated  at  table. 

"  We  heard  you  two  love  birds  cooing  and  billing, 
and  thought  we  might  as  well  begin,"  said  Alys 
Brewster-Smith.  "  Regularity  is  of  the  highest 
importance  in  bringing  up  a  child." 

Cousin  Emelene  was  reading  the  Sentinel. 
George's  quick  eye  glanced  at  the  headlines : 

Candidate  Remington  Heckled  by  Suffragists. 
Ask  Him  Leading  Questions. 

"  Why,  dear  me,"  she  remarked,  her  kind  eyes 
on  George,  "  it's  perfectly  awful,  isn't  it,  that  they 
break  the  laws  that  way  just  for  a  little  more  money. 
But  I  don't  see  why  they  want  to  annoy  dear  George. 
They  ought  to  be  glad  they  are  going  to  get  a  district 
attorney  who'll  put  all  those  things  straight.  I 


176  THE  STURDY  OAK 

think  it's  very  silly  of  them  to  ask  him,  don't  you, 
Genevieve  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Genevieve,  taking  the  paper. 

"  All  he's  got  to  do,  anyway,  is  to  answer,"  pur 
sued  Cousin  Emelene. 

"  Yes,  that's  all,"  replied  Genevieve,  her  melan 
choly  gaze  on  George.  Yesterday  she  would  have 
had  Emelene's  childlike  faith.  But  this  stranger, 
who,  for  a  trivial  and  tyrannical  reason,  had  sent 
away  Betty — how  would  he  act? 

"  They  showed  these  right  opposite  your  win 
dows  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Yes,"  he  returned.  "  Our  friend  Mrs.  Herring- 
ton  did  it  herself.  It  was  the  first  course  of  our 
dinner.  If  you  think  that's  good  taste " 

"  I  would  expect  it  of  her,"  said  Alys  Brewster- 
Smith. 

"  But  it  makes  it  so  easy  for  George,"  Emelene 
repeated.  "  They'll  know  now  what  sort  of  a  man 
he  is.  Little  children  at  work,  just  to  make  a  little 
more  money — it's  awful !  " 

"  Talking  about  money,  George,"  said  Alys, 
"  have  you  seen  to  my  houses  yet  ?  " 


THE  STURDY  OAK  177 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  the  harassed  George.  "  You'll 
have  to  excuse  my  going  into  the  reasons  now. 
I'm  late  as  it  is." 

His  voice  had  not  the  calm  he  would  have  wished 
for.  As  he  took  his  departure,  he  heard  Alys 
saying, 

"  If  you'll  let  me,  my  dear,  I'd  adore  helping  you 
about  the  housekeeping.  I  don't  want  to  stay  here 
and  be  a  burden.  If  you'll  just  turn  it  over  to  me, 
I  could  cut  your  housekeeping  expenses  in  half." 

"  Damn  the  women,"  was  the  unchivalrous 
thought  that  rose  to  George's  lips. 

One  would  have  supposed  that  trouble  had  fol 
lowed  closely  enough  on  George  Remington's  trail, 
but  now  he  found  it  awaiting  him  in  his  office. 

Usually,  Penny  was  the  late  one.  It  was  this 
light-hearted  young  man's  custom  to  blow  in  with 
so  engaging  an  expression  and  so  cheerful  a  manner 
that  any  comment  on  his  unpunctuality  was  impos 
sible.  Today,  instead  of  a  gay-hearted  young  man, 
he  looked  more  like  a  sentencing  judge. 

What  he  wanted  to  know  was, 

"What  have  you  done  to  Betty  Sheridan?     Do 


178  THE  STURDY  OAK 

you  mean  to  say  that  you  had  the  nerve  to  send 
her  away,  send  her  out  of  my  office  without  con 
sulting  me — and  for  a  reason  like  that?  How  did 
you  think  I  was  going  to  feel  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  think  about  you,"  said  George. 

"  You  bet  you  didn't.  You  thought  about  num 
ber  one  and  your  precious  vanity.  Why,  if  one 
were  to  separate  you  from  your  vanity,  one  couldn't 
see  you  when  you  were  going  down  the  street.  Go 
on,  make  a  frock  coat  gesture!  Play  the  brilliant 
but  outraged  young  district  attorney.  Do  you 
know  what  it  was  to  do  a  thing  of  that  kind — to  fire 
a  girl  because  she  didn't  agree  with  you  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  because  she  didn't  agree  with  me," 
George  interrupted,  with  heat. 

"  It  was  the  act  of  a  cad,"  Penny  finished.  "  Look 
here,  young  man,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  few  plain 
truths  about  yourself.  You're  not  the  sort  of  person 
that  you  think  you  are.  You've  deceived  yourself 
the  way  other  people  are  deceived  about  you — by 
your  exterior.  But  inside  of  that  good-looking 
carcass  of  yours  there's  a  brain  composed  of  cheese. 
You  weren't  only  a  cad  to  do  it — you  were  a  fool !  " 


THE  STURDY  OAK  179 

"  You  can't  use  that  tone  to  me ! "  cried 
George. 

"Oh,  can't  I  just?  By  Jove,  it's  things  like 
that  that  make  one  wake  up.  Now  I  know  why 
women  have  a  passion  for  suffrage.  I  never  knew 
before,"  Penny  went  on,  with  more  passion  than 
logic.  "You  had  a  nerve  to  make  that  statement 
of  yours.  You're  a  fine  example  of  chivalry.  You 
let  loose  a  few  things  when  you  wrote  that  fool 
statement,  but  you  did  a  worse  trick  when  you  fired 
Betty  Sheridan.  God,  you're  a  pinhead — from  the 
point  of  view  of  mere  tactics.  Sometimes  I  wonder 
whether  you've  any  brain." 

George  had  turned  white  with  anger. 

"  That'll  just  about  do,"  he  remarked. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  won't,"  said  Penny.  "  It  won't  do 
at  all.  I'm  not  going  to  remain  in  a  firm  where 
things  like  this  can  happen.  I  wouldn't  risk  my 
reputation  and  my  future.  You're  going  to  do  the 
decent  thing.  You're  going  to  Betty  Sheridan  and 
tell  her  what  you  think  of  yourself.  She  won't 
come  back,  I  suppose,  but  you  might  ask  her 
to  do  that,  too.  And  now  I'm  going  out,  to  give 


i8o  THE  STURDY  OAK 

you  time  to  think  this  over.  And  tonight  you  can 
tell  me  what  you've  decided.  And  then  I'll  tell  you 
whether  I'm  going  to  dissolve  our  partnership. 
Your  temper's  too  bad  to  decide  now.  Maybe  when 
you've  done  that  she  won't  treat  me  like  an  un 
savory  stranger." 

He  left,  and  George  sat  down  to  gloomy  reflec 
tion. 

To  do  him  justice,  the  idea  of  apologizing  to 
Betty  had  already  occurred  to  him.  If  he  put  off 
the  day  of  reckoning,  when  the  time  came  he  would 
pay  handsomely.  He  realized  that  there  was  no  use 
in  wasting  energy  and  being  angry  with  Penny. 
He  looked  over  the  happenings  of  the  last  few  hours 
and  the  part  he  had  played  in  them,  and  what  he 
saw  failed  to  please  him.  He  saw  himself  being 
advised  by  Doolittle  to  concentrate  on  the  Erie  Oval. 
He  heard  him  urging  him  not  to  be  what  Doolittle 
called  unneighborly.  The  confiding  words  of  Cousin 
Emelene  rang  in  his  ears. 

He  saw  himself,  in  a  fit  of  ill-temper,  discharging 
Betty.  He  saw  Genevieve,  lovely  and  scornful, 
urging  him  to  be  less  pompous.  All  this,  he  had 


THE  STURDY  OAK  181 

to  admit,  he  had  brought  on  himself.  Why  should 
he  have  been  so  angry  at  these  questions?  Again 
Emelene's  remark  echoed  in  his  ear.  He  had 
only  to  answer  them — and  he  was  going  to  con 
centrate  on  the  Erie  Oval! 

There  came  a  knock  on  the  door,  and  a  breezy 
young  woman  demanded, 

"  D'you  want  a  stenographer  ?  " 

George  wanted  a  stenographer,  and  wanted  one 
badly.  He  put  from  him  the  whole  vexed  question 
in  the  press  of  work,  and  by  lunch  time  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  have  it  out  with  Betty.  There  was  no 
use  putting  it  off,  and  he  knew  that  he  could  have 
no  peace  with  himself  until  he  did.  He  felt  very 
tired — as  though  he  had  been  doing  actual 
physical  work.  He  thought  of  yesterday  as 
a  land  of  lost  content.  But  he  couldn't  find 
Betty. 

He  bent  his  steps  toward  home,  and  as  he  did  so 
affection  for  Genevieve  flooded  his  heart.  He  so 
wanted  yesterday  back — things  as  they  had  been. 
He  so  wanted  her  love  and  her  admiration.  He 
wanted  to  put  his  tired  head  on  her  shoulder.  He 


182  THE  STURDY  OAK 

couldn't  bear,  not  for  another  moment,  to  be  at 
odds  with  her. 

He  wondered  what  she  had  been  doing,  and  how 
she  had  spent  the  morning.  He  imagined  her  cry 
ing  her  heart  out.  He  leaped  up  the  steps  and  ran 
up  to  his  room.  In  it  was  Alys  Brewster-Smith. 
She  started  slightly. 

"  I  was  just  looking  for  some  cold  cream,"  she 
explained. 

"  Where's  Genevieve  ?  "  George  asked. 

"  Oh,  she's  out,"  Alys  replied  casually.  "  She 
left  a  note  for  you." 

The  note  was  a  polite  and  noncommittal  line  in 
forming  George  that  Genevieve  would  not  be  back 
for  lunch.  He  felt  as  though  a  lump  of  ice 
replaced  his  heart.  His  disappointment  was  the 
desperate  disappointment  of  a  small  boy. 

He  went  back  to  the  gloomy  office  and  worked 
through  the  interminable  day.  Late  in  the  after 
noon  Mr.  Doolittle  lounged  heavily  in. 

"  Have  some  gum,  George  ?  "  he  inquired,  insert 
ing  a  large  piece  in  his  own  mouth. 

He  chewed  rhythmically   for  a  space.     George 


THE  STURDY  OAK  183 

waited.  He  knew  that  chewing  gum  was  not  the 
ultimate  object  of  Mr.  Doolittle's  visit. 

"  Don't  women  beat  the  Dutch  ? "  he  inquired 
at  last.  "  Yes  sir,  mister;  they  do!  " 

"  What's  up  now  ?  "  George  inquired.  "  The  suf 
fragists  again  ?  " 

"Nope;  not  on  the  face  of  it  they  ain't.  It's 
the  Woman's  Forum  that's  doin'  this.  They've 
got  a  sweet  little  idea.  '  Seein'  Whitewater  Sweat ' 
they  call  it. 

"  They're  goin'  around  in  bunches  of  twos,  or 
mebbe  blocks  o'  five,  seein'  all  the  sights;  an'  you 
know  women  ain't  reasonable,  an'  you  can't  reason 
with  them.  They're  goin'  to  find  a  pile  o'  things 
they  won't  like  in  this  little  burg  o'  ours,  all  right,  all 
right.  An'  they'll  want  to  have  things  changed  right 
off.  I  want  to  see  things  changed  m'self.  I'd  like 
to,  but  them  things  take  time,  an'  that's  what  women 
won't  understand. 

"Jimminee,  I've  heard  of  towns  all  messed  up 
and  candidates  ruined  just  because  the  women  got 
wrought  up  over  tenement-house  an'  fire  laws  an' 
truck  like  that.  Yes  sir,  they're  out  seein'  White- 


i84  THE  STURDY  OAK 

water  this  minut,  or  will  be  if  you  can't  divert  their 
minds.  Call  'em  off,  George,  if  you  can.  Get  'em 
fussy  about  sumpen  else." 

"Why,  what  have  I  to  do  with  it?"  George  in 
quired. 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  but  what  you  might  have 
sumpen,"  said  Mr.  Doolittle  mildly.  "It's  that 
young  lady  that  works  here,  Miss  Sheridan,  an* 
your  wife  what's  organizin'  it.  Planning  it  all  out 
to  Thome's  at  lunch  they  was,  an'  Heally  was 
sittin'  at  the  next  table  and  beats  it  to  me.  You 
can  see  for  yerself  what  a  hell  of  a  mess  they'll 
make!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

BY  ALICE  DUER  MILLER 

IT  was  a  relief  to  both  men  when  at  this  point 
the  door  of  the  office  opened  and  Martin  Jaffry 
entered. 

Not  since  the  unfortunate  anti-suffrage  statement 
of  George's  had  Uncle  Martin  dropped  in  like  this. 
George,  looking  at  him  with  that  first  swift  glance 
that  often  predetermines  a  whole  interview,  made 
up  his  mind  that  bygones  were  to  be  bygones.  He 
greeted  his  uncle  with  the  warmest  cordiality. 

"  Well,  George,"  said  Uncle  Martin,  "  how  are 
things  going  ? " 

"  I'm  going  to  be  elected,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  answered  George. 

Doolittle  gave  a  snort.  "Indeed,  are  ye?"  said 
he.  "  As  a  friend  and  well-wisher,  I'm  sure  I'm 
delighted  to  hear  the  news." 

185 


1 86  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Do  I  understand  that  you  have  your  doubts, 
Mr.  Doolittle?"  Jaffry  inquired  mildly. 

"  There's  two  things  we  need  and  need  badly, 
Mr.  Jaffry,"  said  Doolittle.  "One's  money " 

"  A  small  campaign  contribution  would  not  be 
rejected?" 

"  But  there's  something  we  need  more  than  money 
— and  God  knows  I  never  expected  to  say  them 
words — and  that's  common  sense." 

"  Good,"  said  Uncle  Martin,  "  I  have  plenty  of 
that,  too!" 

"  Then  for  the  love  of  Mike  pass  some  of  it  on 
to  this  precious  nephew  of  yours." 

"  What  seems  to  be  the  matter?  " 

"  It's  them  women,"  said  Doolittle. 

Uncle  Martin  turned  inquiringly  to  George: 
"  The  tender  flowers  ?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Look  here,  Uncle  Martin,"  said  George,  who 
had  had  a  good  deal  of  this  sort  of  thing  to  bear, 
"  I  don't  understand  you.  Do  you  believe  in  woman 
suffrage?" 

Uncle  Martin  contemplated  a  new  crumpling  of 
his  long-suffering  cap  before  he  answered. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  187 

"  Yes  and  no,  George.  I  believe  in  it  in  the 
same  way  that  I  believe  in  old  age  and  death.  I 
can't  avoid  them  by  denying  their  existence." 

"  But  you  fight  against  them,  and  put  them  off 
as  long  as  you  can." 

"  But  I  yield  a  little  to  them,  too,  George.  What 
is  it?  Has  Genevieve  become  a  convert  to 
suffrage?" 

"  Has  Genevieve — has  my  wife " 

Then  George  remembered  that  his  uncle  was  an 
older  man  and  that  chivalry  is  not  limited  to  the 
treatment  of  the  weaker  sex. 

"  No,"  he  said  with  a  calm  hardly  less  magnifi 
cent  than  the  tempest  would  have  been,  "  no,  Uncle 
Martin,  Genevieve  has  not  become  a  suffragist." 

"  Well,"  said  Doolittle  rising,  as  if  such  things 
were  hardly  worth  his  valuable  time,  "  I  fail  to  see 
the  difference  between  a  suffragette  an'  a  woman 
who  goes  pokin'  her  nose  into  what " 

"You're  speaking  of  my  wife,  Mr.  Doolittle," 
said  George,  with  a  significant  lighting  of  the  eye. 

"  Speakin'  in  general,"  said  Doolittle. 

Uncle  Martin  was  interested. 


1 88  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Has  Genevieve  been — well,  we  won't  say  poking 
the  hose — but  taking  a  responsible  civic  interest 
where  it  would  be  better  if  she  didn't?  " 

"  It  seems,"  answered  George,  casting  an  angry 
glance  at  his  campaign  manager,  "  that  Mr.  Doo- 
little  has  heard  from  a  friend  of  his  who  overheard 
a  conversation  between  Betty  Sheridan  and  my 
wife  at  luncheon.  From  this  he  inferred  that  the 
two  were  planning  an  investigation  of  some  of  the 
city's  problems." 

Uncle  Martin  looked  relieved. 

"  Oh,  your  wife  and  your  stenographer.  That 
can  be  stopped,  I  suppose,  without  undue  exertion." 

"  Betty  is  no  longer  my  stenographer." 

"Left,  has  she?"  said  Jaffry.  "I  had  an  idea 
she  would  not  stay  with  you  long." 

This  intimation  was  not  agreeable  to  George. 
He  would  have  liked  to  explain  that  Miss  Sheridan's 
departure  had  been  dictated  by  the  will  of  the  head 
of  the  firm;  in  fact  he  opened  his  mouth  to  do  so. 
But  the  remembrance  that  this  would  entail  a  long 
and  wearisome  exposition  of  his  reasons  caused 
him  to  remain  silent,  and  his  uncle  went  on: 


THE  STURDY  OAK  189 

"  Well,  anyhow,  you  can  get  Genevieve  to  drop 
it." 

If  Doolittle  had  not  been  there,  George  would 
have  been  glad  to  discuss  with  his  uncle,  who  had, 
after  all,  a  sort  of  worldly  shrewdness,  how  far  a 
man  is  justified  in  controlling  his  wife's  opinions. 
But  before  an  audience  now  a  trifle  unsympathetic, 
he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  making  the 
gesture  of  a  man  magnificently  master  in  his  own 
house. 

He  smiled  quite  grandly.  "  I  think  I  can  promise 
that,"  he  said. 

Doolittle  got  up  slowly,  bringing  his  jaws  to 
gether  in  a  relentless  bite  on  the  unresisting  gum. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  that's  all  there  is  to  it."  And 
he  added  significantly  as  he  reached  the  door,  "If 
you  kin  do  it !  " 

When  the  campaign  manager  had  gone,  Uncle 
Martin  asked  very,  very  gently :  "  You  don't  feel 
any  doubt  of  being  able  to  do  it,  do  you,  George?  " 

"  About  my  ability  to  control — I  mean  influence, 
my  wife?  I  feel  no  doubt  at  all." 

"  And  Penfield,  I  suppose,  can  tackle  Betty?   You 


THE  STURDY  OAK 

won't  mind  my  saying  that  of  the  two  I  think  your 
partner  has  the  harder  job." 

A  slight  cloud  appeared  upon  the  brow  of  the 
candidate. 

"  I  don't  feel  inclined  to  ask  any  favor  of  Penny 
just  at  present,"  he  said  haughtily.  "  Has  it  ever 
struck  you,  Uncle  Martin,  that  Penny  has  an 
unduly  emotional,  an  almost  feminine  type  of 
mind?" 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  "  it  hasn't,  but  that  is  per 
haps  because  I  have  never  been  sure  just  what  the 
feminine  type  of  mind  is." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  answered  George, 
trying  to  conceal  his  annoyance  at  this  sort  of  petty 
quibbling.  "  I  mean  he  is  too  personal,  over-ex 
citable,  irrational  and  very  hard  to  deal  with." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  JafTry.  "  Is  Genevieve  like 
that?" 

"  Genevieve,"  replied  her  husband  loyally,  "  is 
much  better  poised  than  most  women,  but — yes, — 
even  she — all  women  are  more  or  less  like  that." 

"  All  women  and  Penny.  Well,  George,  you 
have  my  sympathy.  An  excitable  partner,  an  irra- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  191 

tional  stenographer,  and  a  wife  that's  very  hard  to 
deal  with!" 

"  I  never  said  Genevieve  was  hard  to  deal  with," 
George  almost  shouted. 

"  My  mistake — thought  you  did,"  answered  his 
uncle,  now  moving  rapidly  away.  "  Let  me  know 
the  result  of  the  interview,  and  we'll  talk  over  ways 
and  means."  And  he  shut  the  door  briskly  behind 
him. 

George  walked  to  the  window,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets.  He  always  liked  to  look  out  while  he 
turned  over  grave  questions  in  his  mind;  but  this 
comfort  was  now  denied  to  him,  for  he  could  not 
help  being  distracted  by  the  voiceless  speech  still 
relentlessly  turning  its  pages  in  the  opposite  window. 

The  heading  now  was : 

DOES  THE  FIFTY-FOUR-HOUR-A-WEEK 
LAW  APPLY  TO  FLOWERS? 

He  flung  himself  down  on  his  chair  with  an  ex 
clamation.  He  knew  he  had  to  think  carefully 
about  something  which  he  had  never  considered 
before,  and  that  was  his  wife's  character. 

Of  course  he  liked  to  think  about  Genevieve— * 


i92  THE  STURDY  OAK 

of  her  beauty,  her  abilities,  her  charms;  and  par 
ticularly  he  liked  to  think  about  her  love  for  him. 

A  week  ago  he  would  have  met  the  present  sit 
uation  very  simply.  He  would  have  put  his  arm 
about  her  and  said :  "  My  darling,  I  think  I'd  a  little 
rather  you  dropped  this  sort  of  thing  for  the  pres 
ent."  And  that  would  have  been  enough. 

But  he  knew  it  would  not  be  enough  now.     He 
would  have  to  have  a  reason,  a  case. 
\        "  Heavens,"  he  thought,  "  imagine  having  to  talk 
to  one's  wife  as  if  she  were  the  lawyer  for  the  other 
side." 

He  did  not  notice  that  he  was  reproaching  Gene- 
vieve   for  being  too  impersonal,   too  unemotional 
/  and  not  irrational  enough. 

When  he  went  home  at  five,  he  had  thought  it 
out.  He  put  his  head  into  the  sitting-room,  where 
Alys  was  ensconced  behind  the  tea-kettle. 

"Come  in,  George  dear,"  she  called  graciously, 
"  and  let  me  give  you  a  really  good  cup  of  tea. 
It's  some  I've  just  ordered  for  you,  and  I  think 
you'll  find  it  an  improvement  on  what  you've  been 
accustomed  to." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  193 

George  shut  the  door  again,  pretending  he  had 
not  heard ;  but  he  had  had  time  enough  to  note  that 
dear  little  Eleanor  was  building  houses  out  of  his 
most  treasured  books. 

The  memory  of  his  quarrel  with  his  wife  had 
been  partly  obliterated  by  memories  of  so  many 
other  quarrels  during  the  day  that  it  was  only  when 
he  was  actually  standing  in  her  room  that  he  remem 
bered  how  very  bitter  their  parting  had  been. 

He  stood  looking  at  her  doubtfully,  and  it  was 
she  who  came  forward  and  put  her  arms  about  him. 
They  clung  to  each  other  like  two  children  who 
have  been  frightened  by  a  nightmare. 

"  We  mustn't  quarrel  again,  George,"  she  said. 
"  I've  had  a  real,  true,  old-fashioned  pain  in  my 
heart  all  day.  But  I  think  I  understand  better  now 
than  I  did.  I  lunched  with  Betty  and  she  made 
me  see." 

"  What  did  Betty  make  you  see?  "  asked  George 
nervously,  for  he  had  not  perfect  confidence  in  Miss 
Sheridan's  visions. 

"  That  it  was  all  a  question  of  efficiency.  She 
said  that  in  business  a  man's  stenographer  is  just 


194  THE  STURDY  OAK 

an  instrument  to  make  his  work  easier,  and  if  for 
any  reason  at  all  that  instrument  does  not  suit  him 
he  is  justified  in  getting  rid  of  it,  and  in  rinding 
one  that  does." 

"  Betty  is  very  generous,"  he  said  coldly.  He 
wanted  to  hear  his  wife  say  that  she  had  not  thought 
him  pompous;  it  was  very  hard  to  be  thankful  for 
a  mere  ethical  rehabilitation. 

Part  of  his  thought-out  plan  was  that  Genevieve 
must  herself  tell  him  of  the  Woman's  Forum's  in-, 
vestigation ;  it  would  not  do  for  him  to  let  her  know 
he  had  heard  of  it  through  a  political  eavesdropper. 
So  after  a  moment  he  added  casually: 

"  And  what  else  did  Betty  have  to  say?  " 

"  Nothing  much." 

His  heart  sank.  Was  Genevieve  becoming  un- 
candid  ? 

"  Nothing  else,"  he  said.  "  Just  to  justify  me 
in  your  eyes  ?  " 

She  hesitated,  "  No,  that  was  not  quite  all,  but 
it  is  too  early  to  talk  about  it  yet." 

"  Anything  that  interests  you,  my  dear,  I  should 
like  to  hear  about  from  the  beginning." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  195 

Perhaps  Genevieve  was  not  so  unemotional  after 
all,  for  at  this  expression  of  his  affection,  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  I  long  to  tell  you,"  she  said.  "  I  only  hesitated 
on  your  account,  but  of  course  I  want  all  your  help 
and  advice.  It's  this :  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt 
that  the  conditions  under  which  women  are  work 
ing  in  our  factories  are  hideous — dangerous — the 
law  is  broken  with  perfect  impunity.  I  know  you 
can't  act  on  rumors  and  hearsay.  Even  the  in 
spectors  don't  give  out  the  truth.  And  so  we  are 
going  to  persuade  the  Woman's  Forum  to  abandon 
its  old  policy  of  mere  discussion. 

"  We — Betty  and  I — are  going  to  get  the  mem 
bers  for  once  to  act — to  make  an  investigation;  so 
that  the  instant  you  come  into  the  office  you  will 
have  complete  information  at  your  disposal — facts, 
and  facts  and  facts  on  which  you  can  act." 

She  paused  and  looked  eagerly  at  her  husband, 
who  remained  silent.  Seeing  this  she  went  on : 

"  I  know  what  you're  thinking.  I  thought  of  it 
myself.  Am  I  justified  in  using  my  position  in  the 
Woman's  Forum  to  further  your  political  career? 


196  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Well,  my  answer  is,  it  isn't  your  political  career, 
only;  it's  truth  and  justice  that  will  be  furthered." 

Here  in  the  home  there  was  no  voiceless  speech 
to  make  the  view  intolerable,  and  George  moved 
away  from  his  wife  and  walked  to  the  window. 
He  looked  out  on  his  own  peaceful  trees  and  lawn, 
and  on  Hanna,  like  a  tiger  in  the  jungle,  stalking 
a  competent  little  sparrow. 

A  temptation  was  assailing  George.  Suppose  he 
did  put  his  opposition  to  this  investigation  on  a 
high  and  mighty  ground?  Suppose  he  announced 
a  moral  scruple?  But  no,  he  cast  Satan  behind 
him. 

/  "  Genevieve,"  he  said,  turning  sharply  toward  her, 
"this  question  puts  our  whole  attitude  to  a  test. 
If  you  and  I  are  two  separate  individuals,  with 
different  responsibilities,  different  interests,  dif 
ferent  opinions,  then  we  ought  to  be  consistent ;  that 
ought  to  mean  economic  independence  of  each  other, 
and  equal  suffrage;  it  means  that  husband  and  wife 
may  become  business  competitors  and  political 
/\  opponents. 

"  But  if,  as  you  know  I  believe,  a  man  and  woman 


THE  STURDY  OAK  197 

who  love  each  other  are  one,  are  a  unit  as  far  as 
society  is  concerned,  why  then  our  interests  are 
identical,  and  it  is  simply  a  question  of  which  of 
us  two  is  better  able  to  deal  with  any  particular 
situation." 

"  But  that  is  what  I  believe,  too,  George." 

"  I  hoped  it  was,  dear ;  I  know  it  used  to  be.      * 
Then    you    must    let    me    act    for    you    in    this 
matter." 

"  Yes,  in  the  end ;  but  an  investigation " 

"  My  darling,  politics  is  not  an  ideal ;  it  is  a  prac 
tical  human  institution.  Just  at  present,  from  the 
political  point  of  view,  such  an  investigation  would 
do  me  incalculable  harm." 

"George!" 

He  nodded.  "  It  would  probably  lose  me  the 
election." 

"But  why?" 

"  Genevieve,  am  I  your  political  representative  or 
not?" 

"  You  are,"  she  smiled  at  him,  "  and  my  dear  love 
as  well ;  but  may  I  not  even  know  why  ?  " 

"If  you  dismissed  the  cook,  and  I  summoned 


i98  THE  STURDY  OAK 

you  before  me  and  bade  you  give  me  your  reasons 
for  such  an  action,  would  you  not  feel  in  your  heart 
that  I  was  disputing  your  judgment?  " 

She  looked  at  him  honestly.  "  Yes,  I  should." 
"  And  I  would  not  do  such  a  discourteous  thing 
to  you.  In  the  home  you  are  absolute.  Whatever 
you  do,  whatever  you  decide,  is  right.  I  would  not 
dream  of  questioning.  Will  you  not  give  me  the 
same  confidence  in  my  special  department  ?  " 

There  was  a  short  pause ;  then  Genevieve  held  out 
her  hand. 

"  Yes,  George,"  she  said,  "  I  will,  but  on  one 

condition " 

"I  did  not  make  conditions,  Genevieve." 
"  You  do  not  have  to,  my  dear.  You  know  that 
I  am  really  your  representative  in  the  house;  that 
I  am  really  always  thinking  of  your  wishes.  You 
must  do  the  same  as  my  political  representative. 
I  mean,  if  I  am  not  to  do  this  work  myself,  you 
must  do  it  for  me." 

"  Even  if  I  consider  it  unwise  ?  " 

"  Unwise  to  protect  women  and  children  ?  " 

"  Genevieve,"  he  said  seriously,  as  one  who  con- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  199 

fides  something  not  always  confided  to  women,  "  en 
forcing  law  sometimes  does  harm." 

"  But  an  investigation " 

"  That's  where  you  are  ignorant,  my  dear.  If 
an  investigation  is  made,  especially  if  the  women 
mix  themselves  up  in  it,  then  we  shall  have  no 
choice  but  enforcement." 

She  had  sunk  down  on  her  sofa,  but  now  she 
sprang  up.  "  And  you  don't  mean  to  enforce  the 
law  in  respect  of  women?  Is  that  why  you  don't 
want  the  investigation  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  You  are  most  unjust.  You  are 
most  illogical,  Genevieve.  All  I  am  asking  is  tkat 
the  whole  question  should  not  be  taken  up  at  this 
moment — just  before  election." 

"  But  this  is  the  only  moment  when  we  can  find 
out  whether  or  not  you  are  a  candidate  who  will 
do  what  we  want." 

"  We,  Genevieve !    Who  do  you  mean  by  *  we  '  ? 

She  stared  for  a  second  at  him,  her  eyes  growing 
large  and  dark  with  astonishment. 

"  Oh,  George,"  she  gasped  finally,  "  I  think  I  4 
meant  women  when   I   said   'we.'     George,   I'm     A 


200  THE  STURDY  OAK 

afraid  I'm  a  suffragist.  And  oh,"  she  added,  with 
a  sort  of  wail,  "  I  don't  want  to  be,  I  don't  want 
to  be!" 

"  Damn  Betty  Sheridan,"  exclaimed  George. 
"  This  is  all  her  doing." 

His  wife  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  it 
wasn't  Betty  who  made  me  see." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  It  was  you,  George." 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  You  made  me  see  why  women  want  to  vote 
for  themselves.  How  can  you  represent  me,  when 
we  disagree  fundamentally  ?  " 

"  How  can  we  disagree  fundamentally  when  we 
love  each  other  ?  " 

"  You  mean  that  because  we  love  each  other,  I 
must  think  as  you  do  ?  " 

"What  else  could  I  mean,  darling?" 

"You  might  have  meant  that  you  would  think 
as  I  do." 

George  glanced  at  her  in  deep  offense. 

"  We  have  indeed  drifted  far  apart,"  he  said. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  201 

and  the  news  was  conveyed  to  George  that  Mr. 
Evans  was  downstairs  asking  to  see  him. 

"  Oh  dear,"  said  Genevieve,  "  it  seems  as  if  we 
never  could  get  a  moment  by  ourselves  nowadays. 
What  does  Penny  want  ?  " 

"  He  wants  to  tell  me  whether  he  intends  to  dis 
solve  partnership  or  not." 

Any  fear  that  his  wife  had  disassociated  herself 
from  his  interests  should  have  been  dispelled  by  the 
tone  in  which  she  exclaimed :  "  Dissolve  partner 
ship!  Penny?  Well,  I  never  in  my  life!  Where 
would  Penny  be  without  you,  I  should  like  to 
know!  He  must  be  crazy." 

These  words  made  George  feel  happier  than  any 
thing  that  had  happened  to  him  throughout  this 
day.  His  self-esteem  began  to  revive. 

"  I  think  Penny  has  been  a  little  hasty,"  he  said, 
judicially  but  not  unkindly.  "  He  lost  all  self- 
control  when  he  heard  I  had  let  Betty  go." 

"  Isn't  that  like  a  man,"  said  Genevieve,  "  to 
throw  away  his  whole  future  just  because  he  loses 
his  temper  ?  " 

George  did  not  directly  answer  this  question,  and 


202  THE  STURDY  OAK 

his  wife  went  on.  "  However,  it  will  be  all  right. 
He  has  seen  Betty  this  afternoon,  and  she  won't 
let  him  do  anything  foolish." 

George  glanced  at  her.  "  You  mean  that  Betty 
will  prevent  his  leaving  the  firm  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  will." 

George  walked  to  the  door. 

"  I  seem  to  owe  a  good  deal  to  my  former  stenog 
rapher,"  he  said,  "  my  wife,  my  partner;  next,  per 
haps  it  will  be  my  election." 


CHAPTER  X 

BY  ETHEL  WATTS  MUMFORD 

PENNY,,  pacing  the  drawing-room  with  panther- 
esque  strides,  came  to  a  tense  halt  as  Remington 
entered. 

"  Well?  "  he  said,  his  eyes  hard,  his  unwelcoming 
hands  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets. 

That  identical  "  well "  with  its  uptilt  of  question 
had  been  on  George's  tongue.  It  was  a  monosyllable 
that  demanded  an  answer.  Penny  had  got  ahead 
of  him,  forced  him,  as  it  were,  into  the  witness 
chair,  and  he  resented  it. 

"  Seems  to  me,'5  he  began  hotly,  "  that  you  were 
the  one  who  was  going  to  make  the  statements — 
'  whether  or  no/  I  believe,  we  were  to  continue  in 
partnership." 

"  Perhaps/'  retorted  Penny,  with  the  air  of 
allowing  no  great  importance  to  that  angle  of  the 
argument,  "  but  what  I  want  to  know  is,  are  you 

203 


204  THE  STURDY  OAK 

going  to  be  a  square  man,  and  own  up  you  were 
peeved  into  being  a  tyrant?  And  when  you've 
done  that,  are  you  going  to  tell  Betty,  and  apolo 
gize?" 

George  hesitated,  trapped  between  his  irritation 
and  the  still  small  voice. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  with  that  amiable  suavity 
that  had  won  him  many  a  concession,  "  you  know 
well  enough  I  don't  want  to  hurt  Betty's  feelings. 
If  she  feels  that  way  about  it,  of  course  I'll 
apologize." 

His  partner  looked  at  him  in  blank  amazement. 

"  Gad !  "  he  exclaimed  as  if  examining  a  particu 
larly  fine  specimen  of  some  rare  beetle,  "  what  a 
bounder." 

"  Meaning  me  ?  "  snapped  George. 

"  Don't  dare  to  quibble.     Look  me  in  the  eye." 

There  was  a  third  degree  fatality  about  the 
usually  debonair  Penny  that  exacted  obedience. 
George  unwillingly  looked  him  in  the  eye,  and  had 
a  ghastly  feeling  of  having  his  suddenly  realized 
smallness  X-rayed. 

"You  know  damned  well  you  acted  like  a  cad," 


THE  STURDY  OAK  205 

Penny  continued,  "  and  I  want  to  know,  for  all 
our  sakes,  if  you're  man  enough  to  own  it?  " 

George's  fundamental  honesty  mastered  him. 
Anger  died  from  his  eyes.  His  clenched  hands 
relaxed  and  began  an  unconscious  and  nervous 
exploration  for  a  cigarette. 

"  Since  you  put  it  that  way,"  he  said,  "  and  it 
happens  that  my  conscience  agrees  with  you — I'll 
go  you.  I  was  a  cad,  and  I'll  tell  Betty  so.  Con 
found  it !  "  he  growled,  "  I  don't  know  what's  come 
over  me  these  days.  I've  got  to  get  a  grip  on 
myself." 

"  You  bet  you  have,"  said  Penny,  hauling  his 
fists  from  his  trousers  as  if  with  an  effort.  Then 
he  grinned.  "  Betty  said  you  would." 

George's  eyes  darkened. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  now,"  Penny  went  on,  "  since  V 
you've  turned  out  at  least  half -decent,  Betty '11  let 
you  off  that  apology  thing.  She  wasn't  the  one  who 
was  exacting  it — not  she.  I  couldn't  stand  for  your 
highfalutin  excuses  for  being — well,  never  mind — 
we  all  get  our  off  days.  But  don't  you  get  off  again 
like  that  if •" 


206  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Penny  hesitated.  "  If  you  want  me  for  a 
partner,"  which  seemed  the  obvious  conclusion, 
was  tame.  "  If  you  want  to  hang  on  to  any  one's 
respect,"  he  finished. 

"  Say,  though/'  he  murmured,  "  Betty'll  give  me 
'  what  for '  for  drubbing  you.  She  actually  took 
your  side — said — oh,  never  mind — tried  to  make 
me  think  of  her  just  as  if  she  was  any  old  Mamie- 
the-stenog — tried  to  prune  out  personal  feeling. 
By  Jove,"  he  ruminated,  "  that  girl's  a  corker ! " 

He  raised  forgiving  eyes  from  his  contemplation 
of  the  rug. 

"  Well,  old  man,  blow  me  to  a  Scotch  and  soda, 
and  I'll  be  going.  Dinged  if  it  wouldn't  have 
broken  me  all  up  to  have  busted  with  you,  even  if 
you  are  a  box  of  prunes.  Shake." 

George  shook,  but  he  was  far  from  happy.  What 
he  had  gained  in  peace  of  mind  he  had  lost  in  self- 
conceit.  His  resentment  against  the  pinch  of  cir 
cumstance  was  deepening  to  cancerous  vindictive- 
ness. 

As  Pennington  left  with  a  cheery  good-by  and  a 
final  half-cynical  word  of  advice  "  to  get  onto  him- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  207 

self  "  George  mounted  the  stairs  slowly  and  came 
face  to  face  with  Genevieve,  obviously  in  wait  for 
him. 

"  What  happened  ? "  she  inquired,  with  an 
anxious  glance  at  his  corrugated  brow. 

George  did  not  feel  in  a  mood  to  describe  his 
retreat,  if  not  defeat. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  We  had  a  highball.  I  think  I 
made  him — well — it's  all  right." 

"  There,  I  knew  Betty'd  make  him  see  reason/' 
she  smiled.  "  I'm  awfully  glad.  I've  a  real  respect 
for  Penny's  judgment  after  all,  you  know." 

"  Meaning,  you  have  your  doubts  about  mine." 

"  No,  meaning  only  just  what  I  said — just  that. 
By  the  way,  George,  I  wish  you'd  take  time  to  look 
into  Alys'  real  estate.  Somebody  ought  to,  and  if 
you're  really  representing  her " 

"  Oh,  good  heavens !  "  he  exclaimed  impatiently, 
angered  by  her  swift  transition  from  his  own  to 
another's  affairs.  "  I  can't !  I  simply  can't ! 
Haven't  you  any  conception  of  how  busy  I  am?  " 

"  I  know,  dear ;  I  do  know.  But  something  must 
be  done.  The  Health  Department,"  she  explained, 


2o8  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  has  sent  in  complaint  after  complaint,  and  Miss 
Eliot  simply  won't  handle  the  property  unless  she's 
allowed  to  spend  a  lot  setting  things  to  rights. 
Alys  says  it's  absurd;  none  of  the  other  property 
owners  out  there  are  doing  anything,  and  she  won't. 
So,  nobody's  looking  after  it,  and  somebody 
should." 

"  Who  told  you  all  this  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Miss 
E.  Eliot,  I  suppose." 

His  wife  nodded.  "And  she's  right,"  she 
added. 

"  Well,  perhaps  she  is,"  he  allowed.  "  I'll  get 
Allen  to  act  as  her  agent  again.  He's  in  with  all 
the  politicians;  he  ought  to  be  able  to  stall  off  the 
department." 

The  words  slipped  out  before  he  realized  their 
import,  but  at  Genevieve's  wide  stare  of  amaze 
ment  he  flushed  crimson.  "  I  mean — lots  of  these 
complaints  are  really  mere  red  tape;  some  self-im 
portant  employee  is  trying  to  look  busy.  A  little 
investigation  usually  puts  that  straight." 

"  Of  course,"  she  acquiesced,  and  he  breathed  a 
sigh  of  relief.  "  That  happens,  too,  but  Miss  Eliot 


THE  STURDY  OAK  209 

says  that  the  conditions  out  there  are  really  dread 
ful." 

"  I'll  talk  to  Allen,"  said  George  with  an  affecta 
tion  of  easy  dismissal  of  the  subject. 

But  Genevieve's  mind  appeared  to  have  grown 
suddenly  persistent.  At  dinner  she  again  brought 
up  the  subject,  this  time  directing  her  troubled  gaze 
and  troubling  words  at  her  guest. 

"  Alys,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  I  really  think  you 
ought  to  go  out  to  Kentwood — to  see  about  your 
property  out  there,  I  mean." 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  looked  up,  rolling  her  large 
eyes  in  frank  amazement. 

"  Go  out  there?  What  for?  It  isn't  the  sort  of 
a  district  a  lady  cares  to  be  seen  in,  I'm  told;  and, 
besides,  George  is  looking  after  that  for  me.  He 
understands  such  matters,  and  I  frankly  own  / 
don't.  Business  makes  me  quite  dizzy,"  she  added 
with  a  flash  of  very  white  teeth. 

Genevieve  hesitated,  then  went  to  the  point. 

"  But  you  must  advise  with  your  agent,  Alys. 
The  property  is  yours" 

Alys  raised  sharply  penciled  brows. 


210  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  I  have  utter  confidence  in  George,"  she  an 
swered  in  a  tone  of  finality  that  brought  an  adoring 
look  from  Emelene,  and  her  usual  Boswellian 
echo :  "  Of  course." 

George  squirmed  uneasily.  Such  a  vote  of  confi 
dence  implied  accepted  responsibility,  and  he  ac 
knowledged  to  himself  that  he  wanted  to  and  would 
dodge  the  unwelcome  burden.  He  turned  a  benign 
Jovian  expression  on  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  and  con 
descended  to  explain. 

"  I  have  considered  what  is  best  for  you,  and  I 
will  myself  see  Allen  and  request  him  to  take  your 
real-estate  affairs  in  charge  again.  Neither  Samp 
son  nor — er — Eliot  is,  I  think,  advisable  for  your 
best  interests." 

At  the  mention  of  the  last  name  Genevieve's  ex 
pressive  face  stretched  to  speak;  then  she  closed 
her  lips  with  self -controlled  determination.  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith  looked  at  her  host  in  scandalized 
amazement. 

"  But  I  told  you,"  she  almost  whimpered,  "  that 
his  wife  is  simply  impossible." 

George  smiled  tolerantly.     "  But  his  wife  isn't 


THE  STURDY  OAK  211 

doing  the  business.  It's  the  business,  not  the  social 
interests,  we  have  to  consider. 

"  Oh,  but  she  is  in  the  business,"  Alys  explained. 
"  I  think  it's  because  she's  jealous  of  him;  she  wants 
to  be  around  the  office  and  watch  him." 

Genevieve  interposed.  "  Mrs.  Allen  owns  a  lot 
of  land  herself,  and  she  looks  after  it.  It  seems 
quite  natural  to  me." 

"  But  she  has  a  husband,"  Alys  rebuked. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Genevieve,  "but  she  probably 
married  him  for  a  husband,  not  a  business 
agent." 

George  felt  the  reins  of  the  situation  slipping 
from  him,  so  he  jerked  the  curb  of  conversation. 

"We  are  beside  the  issue,"  he  said  in  his  most 
legal  manner.  "  The  fact  is  that  Allen  knows  more 
about  the  Kentwood  district  and  the  factory  values 
than  any  one  else,  and  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  advise 
Alys  to  leave  her  affairs  in  his  hands.  I'll  see  him 
for  you  in  the  morning." 

He  turned  to  Alys  with  a  return  of  tolerantly 
protective  inflection  in  his  voice. 

Genevieve  shrugged,  a  faint  ghost  of  a  shrug. 


212  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Had  George  been  less  absorbed  in  his  own  mental 
discomforts,  he  would  have  discovered  there  and 
then  that  the  matter  of  his  speech,  not  the  manner 
of  his  delivery,  was  what  held  his  wife's  attention. 
No  longer  could  rounded  periods  and  eloquent 
sophistry  hide  from  her  his  thoughts  and  in 
tentions. 

A  telephone  call  interrupted  the  meal.  He  an 
swered  it  with  relief,  bowing  a  hurried,  self-impor 
tant  excuse  to  the  ladies.  But  the  voice  that  came 
over  the  wire  was  not  modulated  in  tones  of  flattery. 

"  Say,"  drawled  the  campaign  manager,  "  you'd 
better  get  a  hump  on,  and  come  over  here  to  head 
quarters.  There's  a  couple  of  gents  here  who  want 
a  word  with  you." 

The  tone  was  ominous,  and  George  stiffened. 
"  Very  well,  I'll  be  right  over.  But  you  can  pretty 
well  tell  them  where  I  stand  on  the  main  issues. 
Who's  at  headquarters?" 

A  snort  of  disgust  greeted  the  inquiry.  The  snort 
told  George  that  seasoned  campaigners  did  not  use 
the  telephone  with  such  casual  lack  of  circumspec 
tion.  The  words  were  in  like  manner  enlightening. 


THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Well,  there  might  be  Mr.  Julius  Caesar,  and 
then  again  Mr.  George  Washington  might  drop  in. 
What  I'm  putting  you  wise  to,"  he  added  sharply, 
"  is  that  you'd  better  get  on  to  your  job." 

There  was  a  click  as  of  a  receiver  hung  up  with 
a  jerk,  and  a  subdued  giggle  that  testified  to  the 
innocent  attention  of  the  telephone  operator. 

With  but  a  pale  reflection  of  his  usual  courtesy 
the  harassed  candidate  left  the  bosom  of  his  family. 
No  sooner  had  he  taken  his  departure  than  the 
bosom  heaved. 

"My  dear  girl,"  said  Alys,  "if  you  take  that 
tone  with  your  husband  you'll  never  hold  him — 
never.  Men  won't  stand  for  it.  You're  only  hurt 
ing  yourself." 

"What  tone?"  Genevieve  inquired  as  she  rose 
calmly  and  led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room. 

"  I  mean  " — Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  slipped  a  firm, 
white  hand  across  Genevieve's  shoulders — "  you 
shouldn't  try  to  force  issues.  It  looks  as  if  you 
didn't  have  confidence  in  your  husband,  and  men, 
to  do  and  be  their  best,  must  feel  perfect  trust  from 
the  woman  they  love.  You  don't  mind  my  being 


2i4  THE  STURDY  OAK 

so  frank,  dear,  but  we  women  must  help  one  an 
other — by  our  experience  and  our  intuitions." 

Genevieve  looked  at  her.  Oblique  angles  had  be 
come  irritatingly  fascinating.  '*  I'm  beginning  to 
think  so  more  and  more,"  she  replied. 

"  It's  for  your  own  good,  dear,"  Alys  smiled. 

"  Yes,"  Genevieve  agreed.  "  I  understand. 
Things  that  hurt  are  often  for  our  good,  aren't 
they?  We  have  to  be  made  to  realize  facts  really 
to  know  them." 

"  Coffee,  dear  ?  "  inquired  Alys,  assuming  the 
duties  of  hostess. 

Genevieve  shook  her  head.  "  No.  I  find  I've 
been  rather  wakeful  of  late:  perhaps  it's  coffee. 
Excuse  me.  I  must  telephone." 

A  moment  later  she  returned  beaming. 

"  I  have  borrowed  a  car  for  tomorrow,  and  I 
want  you  and  Emelene  to  come  with  me  for  a 
little  spin.  We  ought  to  have  a  bright  day;  the 
night  is  wonderful.  Poor  George,"  she  sighed,  "  I 
wish  he  didn't  have  to  be  away  so  much." 

"  His  career  is  yours,  you  know,"  kittenishly  bro- 
midic,  Emelene  comforted  her. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  215 

The  following  day  fulfilled  the  promise  of  its 
predecessor.  Clear  and  balmy,  it  invited  to  the 
outer  world,  and  it  was  with  pleased  anticipation 
that  Genevieve's  guests  prepared  for  the  promised 
outing.  Genevieve  glanced  anxiously  into  her 
gold  mesh  bag.  The  motor  was  hired,  not  bor 
rowed. 

She  had  permitted  herself  this  one  white  lie. 

She  ushered  her  guests  into  the  tonneau  and  took 
her  place  beside  the  chauffeur.  Their  first  few  stops 
were  for  such  prosaic  purchases  as  the  household 
;  made  necessary ;  there  was  a  pause  at  the  post  office, 
another  at  the  Forum,  where  Genevieve  left  two 
highly  disgruntled  women  waiting  for  her  while 
with  a  guilty  sense  of  teasing  her  prey  she  pro 
longed  her  business.  The  sight  of  their  stiffened 
figures  and  averted  faces  when  she  returned  to  them 
kindled  a  new  amusement. 

At  last  they  were  settled  comfortably,  and  the  car 
!  turned  toward  the  suburbs. 

The  town  streets  were  passed  and  lines  of  villa 
|  homes  thinned.  The  ornate  colonial  gates  of  the 
I  Country  Club  flashed  by.  Now  the  sky  to  the  right 


216  THE  STURDY  OAK 

was  dark  with  the  smoke  of  the  belching  chimneys 
of  many  factories.  For  a  block  or  two  cottages  of 
the  better  sort  flanked  the  road;  then,  grim,  ugly 
and  dilapidated,  stretched  the  twin  "  improved " 
sections  of  Kentwood  and  Powderville.  In  the  air 
was  an  acrid  odor.  Soot  begrimed  everything.  The 
sodden  ground  was  littered  with  refuse  between  the 
shacks,  which  were  dignified  by  the  title  of  "  Work 
men's  Cottages." 

Amid  the  confusion,  irregular  trodden  paths  led, 
short-cutting,  toward  the  clattering,  grinding  muni 
tion  plants.  For  a  space  of  at  least  half  an  acre 
around  the  huge  iron  buildings  the  ground,  with 
sinister  import,  was  kept  clear  of  dwellings,  but  in 
all  directions  outside  of  the  inclosure  thousands  of 
new  yellow-pine  shacks  testified  to  the  sudden  de 
mand  for  labor.  A  large  weather-beaten  signboard 
at  a  wired  cross-road  bore  the  name  of  "  Kent- 
wood,"  plus  the  advice  that  the  office  was  adjacent 
for  the  purchase  or  lease  of  the  highly  desirable 
villa  sites. 

The  motor  drew  up  and  Genevieve  alighted.  For 
the  first  time  since  their  course  had  been  turned 


THE  STURDY  OAK  217 

toward  the  unlovely  but  productive  outskirts,  Gene- 
vieve  faced  her  passengers.  Alys'  face  was  pale. 
Emelene's  expression  was  puzzled  and  worried, 
as  a  child's  is  worried  when  the  child  is  suddenly 
confronted  by  strange  and  gloomy  surroundings. 

"  There  is  some  one  in  the  renting  office,"  said 
Genevieve  with  quiet  determination.  "  I'll  find  out. 
We  shall  need  a  guide  to  go  around  with  us. 
Emelene,  you  needn't  get  out  unless  you  wish  to." 

Emelene  shuffled  uneasily,  half  rose,  and  col 
lapsed  helplessly  back  on  the  cushions,  like  a  baby 
who  has  encountered  the  resistance  of  his  buggy 
strap. 

"  I — if  you'll  excuse  me,  Genevieve,  dear,  I  won't 
get  out.  I've  only  got  on  my  thin  kid  slippers.  I 
didn't  expect  to  put  foot  on  the  pavement  this  morn 
ing,  you  know." 

"  Very  well,  then,  Alys !  "  Genevieve's  voice  as 
sumed  a  note  of  command  her  mild  accents  had 
never  before  known. 

Alys'  brilliant  eyes  snapped.  "  I  have  no  desire," 
she  said  firmly,  with  all  the  dignity  of  an  affronted 
lady,  "  to  go  into  this  matter." 


2i8  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  I  know  you  haven't.  But  I'm  going  to  walk 
through.  /  am  making  a  report  for  the  Woman's 
Forum." 

Alys'  face  crimsoned  with  anger. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  do  such  a  thing,"  she  ex 
claimed.  "  I  shall  refuse  you  permission.  You  will 
have  to  obtain  a  permit." 

"  I  have  one,"  Genevieve  retorted,  "  from  the 
Health  Department.  And — I  am  to  meet  one  of 
the  officers  here." 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith's  descent  from  the  tonneau 
was  more  rapid  than  graceful. 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  do  ? "  she  demanded. 
"  Genevieve,  I  don't  understand  you." 

"Don't  you?" 

The  diffident  girl  had  suddenly  assumed  the  in 
cisive  strength  of  observant  womanhood. 

"  I  think  you  do.  I  am  going  to  show  you  your 
own  responsibilities,  if  that's  a  possible  thing.  I'm 
not  going  to  let  you  throw  them  on  George  because 
he's  a  man  and  your  kin ;  and  I  shan't  let  him  throw 
them  on  an  irresponsible  agent  because  he  has 
neither  the  time  nor  the  inclination  to  do  justice  to 


THE  STURDY  OAK  219 

himself,  to  you,  nor  to  these  people  to  whom  he  is 
responsible." 

She  waved  a  hand  down  the  muddy,  jumbled 
street. 

The  advent  of  an  automobile  had  had  its  effect. 
Eager  faces  appeared  at  windows  and  doors.  Chil 
dren  frankly  curious  and  as  frankly  neglected 
climbed  over  each  other,  hanging  on  the  ragged 
fences.  Two  mongrel  dogs  strained  at  their  chains, 
yelping  furiously.  Genevieve  crossed  to  the  little 
square  building  bearing  a  gilt  "  office  "  sign.  There 
was  no  response  to  her  imperative  knock,  but  a 
middle-aged  man  appeared  on  the  porch  of  the  ad 
joining  shack  and  observed  her  curiously. 

"  Wanta  rent?  "  he  called  jeeringly. 

"Are  you  in  charge  here?"  Genevieve  inquired. 

"  Sorter,"  he  temporized.     "  Watcha  want?  " 

"  I  want  some  one  who  knows  something  about  it 
to  go  around  Kentwood  with  us." 

"What  for?"  he  snarled.     "I  got  my  orders." 

"  From  whom  ?  "  countered  Genevieve. 

"  None  of  your  business,  as  I  can  see."  He  eyed 
her  narrowly.  "  But  my  orders  is  to  keep  every  one 


220  THE  STURDY  OAK 

nosin'  around  here  without  no  good  raison  out  of  the 
place — and  I  don't  think  you're  here  to  rent,  nor 
your  friend,  neither.  Besides,  there  ain't  nothin'  to 
rent." 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  colored.  The  insult  to  her 
ownership  of  the  premises  stung  her  to  resentment. 

"  My  good  man,"  she  said  sharply.  "  I  happen  to 
be  the  proprietor  of  North  Kentwood." 

"Then  you'd  better  beat  it."  The  guardian 
grinned.  "  There's  a  dame  been  here  with  one  of 
them  fellers  from  the  town  office." 

"Where  are  they  now?"  questioned  Genevieve 
sharply. 

"  Went  up  factory  way.  But  if  you  ain't  one  of 
them  lady  nosies,  you'd  better  beat  it,  I  tell  you." 

Genevieve  looked  up  the  street.  "  Very  well, 
we'll  walk  on  up.  This  is  North  Kentwood,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Ain't  much  choice,"  he  shrugged,  "  but  it  is. 
You  can  smell  it  a  mile.  Say,  you  lady  owner 
there  " — he  laughed  at  his  own  astuteness  in  not 
being  taken  in — "you  know  the  monikers,  don't 
you  ?  South  Kentwood,  '  Stinktown  ' ;  North  Kent- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  221 

wood,  '  Swilltown  '  ?  "  He  grinned,  pulled  at  his 
hip  pocket  and,  extracting  a  flat  glass  flask,  took 
a  prolonged  swig  and  replaced  the  bottle  with  a 
leer. 

The  two  incongruous  visitors  were  already  nego 
tiating  the  muddy  thoroughfare  between  the  dilapi 
dated  dwellings.  Presently  these  gave  place  to 
roughly  knocked  together  structures  for  two  and 
three  families. 

The  number  of  children  was  surprising.  Now 
and  again  a  shrill-voiced  woman,  who  seemed  the 
prototype  of  her  who  lived  in  the  shoe,  came  to 
admonish  her  young  and  stare  with  hostile  eyes  at 
the  invaders.  Refuse,  barrels,  cans,  pigs,  dogs, 
chickens,  were  on  all  sides,  with  here  and  there  a 
street  watering  trough,  fed,  apparently,  by  an  occa 
sional  tap  at  the  wide-apart  hydrants,  installed  by 
the  factories  for  protection  in  case  of  fire,  as  evi 
denced  by  the  signs  staked  by  the  apparatus. 

"  What  do  they  pay  you  for  these  cottages  ?  " 
Genevieve  inquired  suddenly. 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith,  whose  curiosity  concerning 
her  possessions  had  been  aroused  by  the  physical 


222  THE  STURDY  OAK 

evidence  of  the  same,  balanced  on  a  rut  and  sur 
veyed  her  tormentor  angrily. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I've  told  you  before  I 
don't  understand  such  matters,  and  I  see  nothing  to 
be  gained  by  coming  here." 

Genevieve  pushed  open  a  battered  gate,  walked 
up  to  the  door  and  knocked. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  her  companion  called, 
querulously. 

A  noise  of  many  pattering  feet  on  bare  floors,  a 
strident  order  for  silence,  and  the  door  swung  open. 
A  young  girl  stood  in  the  doorway.  Behind  her 
were  a  dozen  or  more  children,  varying  from  tod 
dlers  to  gawky  girls  and  boys  of  school  age. 

Genevieve's  eyes  widened.  "  Dear  me,"  she  ex 
claimed,  "  they  aren't  all  yours!  " 

The  young  woman  grinned  mirthlessly.  "  I 
should  say  not !  "  she  snapped.  "  They  pays  me  to 
look  out  for  'em — their  fathers  and  mothers  in  the 
factory.  Watcha  want  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  pay  for  a  house  like  this  ?  " 

The  hired  mother's  brow  wrinkled,  and  her  lips 
drew  back  in  an  ugly  snarl. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  223 

"  They  robs  us,  these  landlords  does.  We  gotter 
be  'longside  the  works,  so  they  robs  us.  What  do  I 
pay  for  this?  Thirty  a  month,  and  at  that  'tain't 
fit  for  no  dawg  to  live  in.  I  could  knock  up  a  shack 
like  this  with  tar  paper,  I  could. 

"  And  what  do  we  get  ?  I  gotter  haul  the  water 
in  a  bucket,  and  cook  on  an  oil  stove,  and  they  hists 
the  price  of  the  ile,  'cause  he  comes  by  in  a  wagon 
with  it.  The  landlords  is  squeezing  the  life  out  of 
us,  I  tell  ye." 

She  paused  in  her  tirade  to  yell  at  her  charges. 
Then  she  turned  again  to  the  story  of  her  wrongs. 

"  And  of  all  the  pest  holes  I  ever  seen,  this  is  the 

i  plum  worst.     There's  chills  an'  fever  an'  typhoid 

;  till  you  can't  rest,  an'  them  kids  is  abustin'  with 

measles  an'  mumps  an'  scarlet  fever.    That  I  ain't 

got  'em  all  myself's  a  miracle." 

"  You  ought  to  have  a  district  nurse  and  inspec 
tor/'  said  Genevieve,  amused,  in  spite  of  her  indig 
nation,  at  the  dark  picture  presented. 

"Distric'  nothin',"  the  other  sneered.     "There 

ain't  nothin'  here  but  rent  an'  taxes — doggone  if  I 

I  don't  quit.    There's  plenty  to  do  this  here  mindin' 


224  THE  STURDY  OAK 

work,  an'  I  bet  I  could  make  more  at  the  factory. 
They're  payin'  grand  for  overtime." 

Genevieve  looked  at  the  thin  shoulders  and  nar 
row  chest  of  the  girl,  noted  her  growing  pallor  and 
wondered  how  long  such  a  physique  could  with 
stand  the  strain  of  hard  work  and  overtime.  She 
sighed.  Something  of  her  thoughts  must  have 
shown  in  her  face,  for  the  girl  reddened  and  her 
lips  tightened.  Without  another  word  she  slammed 
the  door  in  her  visitor's  face. 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  cackled  thin  laughter. 

"  That's  what  you  get  for  interfering,"  she  jeered, 
so  angry  with  her  hostess  for  this  forced  inspection 
of  her  source  of  income  that  she  was  ready  to  sacri 
fice  the  comforts  of  her  extended  visit  to  have  the 
satisfaction  of  airing  her  resentment. 

"  Poor  soul ! "  said  Genevieve.  "  Thirty  a 
month ! "  Her  eyes  ran  over  the  rows  of  crowded 
shacks.  "  The  owners  must  get  together  and  do 
something  here,"  she  said.  "  These  conditions  are 
simply  vile." 

"  It's  probably  all  these  people  are  used  to,"  Alys 
snapped.  "  And,  besides,  if  they  went  further  into 


THE  STURDY  OAK  225 

town  it'd  cost  them  the  trolley  both  ways,  and  all 
the  time  lost.  It's  the  location  they  pay  for.  Mr. 
Allen  told  me  not  two  months  ago  he  thought  rents 
could  be  raised." 

"If  you  all  co-operate,"  Genevieve  continued  her 
own  line  of  thought,  "  you  could  at  least  clean  the 
place  and  make  it  safe  to  live  in,  even  if  they  haven't 
any  comforts." 

Her  face  brightened.  Around  the  corner  came 
the  strong,  solid  figure  of  Miss  Eliot;  behind  her 
trotted  a  bespectacled  young  man  who  carried  a 
pigskin  envelope  under  his  arm  and  whose  expres 
sion  was  far  from  happy. 

"  Hello !  "  called  Miss  Eliot.  "  So  you  did  come. 
I'm  glad  of  it.  Let  me  present  Mr.  Glass  to  you. 
The  department  lent  him  to  me  for  the  day. 
And  what  do  you  think  of  it,  now  that  you  can 
see  it?" 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,"  said  Genevieve,  nodding  to 
the  health  officer.  "  What  do  I  think  of  it?  What 
does  Mr.  Glass  think?  That's  more  important.  Oh, 
let  me  present  you — this  is  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith." 

Miss  Eliot's  face  showed  no  surprise,  though  her 


226  THE  STURDY  OAK 

eyes  twinkled,  but  Mr.  Glass  was  frankly  taken 
aback. 

"  Mrs.  Brewster  -  Smith  —  Brewster  -  Smith/'  he 
stammered.  "Oh — er — "  he  gripped  his  pigskin 
folio  as  if  about  to  search  its  contents  to  verify  the 
name.  "  The — er — the  owner  ?  "  he  inquired. 

Alys  stiffened.  "  My  dear  husband  left  me  this 
property.  I  have  never  before  seen  it." 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  beamed  Mr.  Glass,  "  to  see  that 
we  shall  have  your  co-operation  in  our  efforts  to  do 
something  definite  for  this  section — and  measures 
must  be  taken  quickly.  As  you  see,  there  is  no  sani 
tation,  no  trenching,  no  mosquito-extermination 
plant.  Malaria  and  typhoid  are  prevalent;  it's  all 
very  bad,  very  bad,  indeed.  And  you'd  hardly  be 
lieve,  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith,  what  difficulties  we  are 
having  with  the  owners  as  a  class.  The  five  big 
gest  have  formed  an  association.  I  suppose  you've 
heard  about  it.  They  must  have  made  an  effort  to 
interest  you  " — he  stopped  short,  remembering  that 
her  name  appeared  on  the  lists  of  the  "  Protective 
League." 

"  Really  "— Alys  had  recovered  her  hauteur  and 


THE  STURDY  OAK  227 

the  aloofness  becoming  the  situation — "  I  know 
nothing  whatever  about  what  measures  my  agents 
have  thought  it  advisable  to  take." 

Mr.  Glass  choked  and  glanced  uneasily  at  Miss 
Eliot. 

That  lady  grinned,  almost  the  grin  of  a  gamin. 
'  You  needn't  look  at  me,  Mr.  Glass.  I  don't  rep 
resent  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  I  know,"  Mr.  Glass  hastened  to 
exonerate  his  companion. 

"  I  believe  Miss  Eliot  declined  the  honor,"  Gene- 
jyieve's  voice  was  heard. 

"  I  did,"  the  agent  affirmed.  She  laughed  shortly. 
'  Otherwise  you  would  hardly  find  me  here  in  my 
Dresent  capacity.  One  does  not  '  run  with  the  hare 
and  hunt  with  the  hounds/  you  know." 

Alys  lost  her  temper.  It  seemed  to  her  she  was 
ruthlessly  being  forced  to  shoulder  responsibilities 
^he  had  been  taught  to  shirk  as  a  sacred  feminine 
fight.  Therefore,  feeling  injured,  she  voiced  her 
nnocence. 

"  Your  husband,  my  dear  Genevieve,  has  been 
rood  enough  to  administer  my  little  estate.  What- 


228  THE  STURDY  OAK 

ever  he  has  done,  or  now  plans  to  do,  meets  with 
my  entire  approval." 

The  thrust  went  home  in  more  directions  than 
one.  Miss  Eliot  turned  her  frank  gaze  upon  the 
speaker,  while  she  slowly  nodded  her  head  as  if 
studying  a  perfect  specimen  of  a  noxious  species. 
Mr.  Glass  gasped.  There  was  political  material  in 
the  statement.  He  looked  anxiously  at  the  wife  of 
the  gentleman  implicated,  but  in  her  was  no  fear 
and  no  manner  of  trembling.  Instead,  the  light  of 
battle  shone  in  her  eyes. 

"  My  dear  Alys,"  she  said,  "  my  husband  has 
told  you  that  he  is  too  busy  a  man  to  give  your 
affairs  his  personal  attention.  He  can  only  advise 
you  and  turn  the  executive  side  over  to  another. 
His  experience  does  not  extend  to  the  stock  market 
or  to  real  estate.  It  is  an  imposition  to  throw  your 
burdens  upon  him.  If  you  derive  benefits  from 
ownership,  you  must  educate  yourself  to  accept  your 
duty  to  society." 

"Indeed!"  flared  Alys,  furious  at  this  public 
arraignment.  "  May  I  ask  if  you  intend  to  con 
tinue  this  insulting  attitude  ?  " 


THE  STURDY  OAK  229 


"  If  you  mean,  do  I  expect  hereafter  to  be  a  live 
woman  and  not  a  parasite — I  do." 


Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  turned  on  her  heel  and 
walked  away,  teetering  over  the  ruts  and  holes  of 
the  path. 

Genevieve  looked  distressed.  "I'm  sorry,"  she 
breathed,  "  I'm  ashamed,  but  it  had  to  come  out. 
I — I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  I — beg  every 
body's  pardon.  I'm  sure,  it  was  awfully  bad  man 
ners  of  me.  Oh,  dear — "  she  faltered,  half  turned, 
and,  with  a  gesture  of  appeal  toward  Mrs.  Brewster- 
Smith's  slowly  retreating  back,  moved  as  if  to 
follow. 

"  I  wouldn't  go  after  her,"  said  E.  Eliot.  "  Of 
course,  you  haven't  had  experience.  You  don't 
know  how  much  self-restraint  you've  got  to  build 
up,  but  you're  here  now,  and  I'm  sure  Mr.  Glass 
understands.  He's  got  to  come  up  against  all  sorts 
of  exasperations  on  his  job,  too.  He  won't  take  any 
stock  in  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith's  trying  to  tie  your 
husband  up  to  these  wretched  conditions. 

"  He's  looking  forward  to  seeing  an  honest,  pub 
lic-spirited  district  attorney  get  into  office — even  if 


230  THE  STURDY  OAK 

your  husband  doesn't  yet  see  that  women  have 
anything  to  say  about  it.  They  may  heckle  him  in 
order  to  force  him  to  come  out  on  his  intentions 
about  the  graft,  and  the  eight-hour  day,  and  the 
enforcement  of  the  law,  but  they  don't  doubt  his 
honesty.  When  he  know's  what's  what,  I  guess  the 
public  can  trust  him  to  do  the  right  thing.  Only 
he's  got  to  be  shown." 

As  she  talked,  giving  Genevieve  time  to  recover 
from  her  upheaval,  the  three  investigators  were 
plowing  their  way  up  and  down  byways  equally 
depressing  and  insanitary.  Silence  ensued.  Occa 
sionally  an  expression  of  commiseration  or  con 
demnation  escaped  one  or  another  of  the  party. 

Suddenly  a  raucous  whistle  tore  the  air,  followed 
by  another  and  another,  declaring  the  armistice  of 
the  noon  hour.  Iron  gates  in  the  surrounding  wall 
were  opened,  a  stream  of  men  and  women  poured 
out,  grimed,  sweat-streaked  and  voluble.  The  two 
women  and  their  escort  paused  and  watched  the 
oncoming  swarm  of  humanity. 

Around  the  corner,  just  ahead,  strode  a  giant  of 
a  man,  followed  by  a  red- faced,  unkempt,  familiar 


THE  STURDY  OAK  231 

figure — the  man  in  charge  of  the  renting  office. 
The  giant  came  forward  threateningly. 

"What  youse  doing?"  he  growled.  He  jerked 
his  jersey,  displaying  a  brass  badge,  P.  A.  Guard. 

"  Git  outer  here— git,"  he  called. 

Mr.  Glass  stepped  forward,  displaying  his  Health 
Department  permit.  The  giant  laughed. 

"  Say,  sonny,"  he  sneered,  "  that  don't  go — see. 

!  Them  tin  fakes  don't  git  by.     If  you're  one  of  them 

I  guys,  you  come  here  wit'  McLaughlin,  and  youse 

can  rubber.     But  we've  had  enough  of  this  stuff. 

Them  dames  is  no  blind,  neither.    I'm  guard  for  the 

owners  here,  and  we  ain't  takin'  no  chances  wit' 

trouble  makers — git.    Git  a  move  on !  " 

"  The  department,"  spluttered  Glass,  "  shall  hear 
of  this." 

"  That's  all  right.  McLaughlin's  the  boss.  Tell 
'em  not  to  send  a  kid  to  do  a  man's  job." 

Genevieve  was  too  amazed  to  protest.  It  was  her 
first  experience  of  defiance  of  Law  and  Order  by 
Law  and  Order. 

Meanwhile,  the  first  stragglers  of  the  released 
army  of  toilers  were  nearly  upon  them.  The  giant 


232  THE  STURDY  OAK 

observed  their  approach,  and  the  look  of  menace 
deepened  on  his  huge,  congested  face. 

"  Move  on,  now — move  on,"  he  snarled,  and 
herded  them  forward  in  advance  of  the  workers. 

Sheepishly  the  three  obeyed,  but  Miss  Eliot  was 
not  silent. 

"  Your  name  ?  "  she  demanded  in  judicial  com 
mand. 

The  very  terseness  of  her  question  seemed  to  jerk 
an  unwilling  answer  from  the  guard. 

"  Michael  Mehan." 

"  And  you're  employed  by  the  Owners'  Protec 
tive  League?  " 

"  Sure." 

"  Have  they  given  you  orders  to  keep  strangers 
out  of  the  district?" 

"  I  have  me  orders,  and  I  know  what  they  be. 
I'm  duly  sworn  in  as  extra  guard — and  I'm  not  the 
only  one,  neither." 

"  Did  he  come  after  you?  "  Miss  Eliot  indicated 
the  ruffian  at  his  side. 

"I  seen  the  lady  owner  blew  the  bunch,"  that 
worthy  remarked  with  a  hoarse  chuckle.  "I 


THE  STURDY  OAK  233 

wised  Mike,  all  right.  Whatcha  goin'  to  do  about 
it?" 

"  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith,  the  owner/'  Miss  Eliot 
observed,  "  didn't  seem  to  know  that  she  had  em 
ployed  you.  How  about  that  ?  " 

"I'm  put  here  by  the  O.  P.  L.  That's  good 
enough  fer  yer  lady  owner — not — ain't  it?  The 
things  them  nosey  dames  thinks  they  can  git  by 
wit' !  "  he  observed  to  the  guard,  and  swore  an  oath 
that  made  Mr.  Glass  turn  to  him  with  unexpected 
fury. 

"  You  may  pretend  to  think  that  I'm  not  what  I 
represent  myself  to  be,  but  let  me  tell  you,  Mc- 
Laughlin  is  going  to  hear  of  this.  One  more  insult 
to  these  ladies  and  I'll  make  it  my  business  to  go 
personally  to  your  employers.  Get  me  ?  " 

"  Shut  your  trap,  Jim,"  snarled  Mehan.  "  Yer 
ain't  got  no  orders  fer  no  fancy  language."  He 
leered  at  Genevieve.  "  Now  we've  shooed  the 
chickens  out,  we're  tru'."  With  a  wave  of  his  huge 
paw  he  indicated  the  highway  the  turn  of  the  path 
revealed. 

Genevieve  looked  to  the  right,   where  the  car 


.234  THE  STURDY  OAK 

should  be  waiting  her.  It  was  gone.  Evidently  the 
indignant  Mrs.  Brewster- Smith  had  expedited  the 
departure.  Miss  Eliot  read  her  discomfiture. 

"  My  car  is  right  down  here  behind  that  palatial 
mansion  with  the  hole  in  the  roof  and  the  tin-can 
extension.  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  escort," 
she  added,  turning  to  the  two  representatives  of  the 
Protective  League.  "  My  name,  by  the  way,  is  E. 
Eliot.  I  am  a  real-estate  agent  and  my  office  is  at 
22  Braston  Street.  You  might  mention  it  in  your 
report." 

The  little  car  stood  waiting,  surrounded  by  a 
group  of  admiring  children.  Its  owner  stepped  in 
briskly,  backed  around  and  received  her  passengers. 

"  Well,"  she  smiled  as  they  drew  out  on  the  trav 
eled  highway,  "  how  do  you  like  the  purlieus  of  our 
noble  little  city?" 

Genevieve  was  silent.  Then  she  spoke  with  con 
viction. 

"  When  George  is  in  power — and  he's  got  to  be— 
the  Law  will  be  the  Law.  I  know  him." 


CHAPTER  XI 

BY  MARJORIE  BENTON  COOK 

GEORGE  REMINGTON  walked  toward  headquarters 
with  more  assurance  than  he  felt.  He  resented 
Doolittle's  command  that  he  appear  at  once.  He 
was  beginning  to  realize  the  pressure  which  these 
campaign  managers  were  bringing  to  bear  upon  him. 
He  was  not  sure  yet  how  far  he  could  go,  in  out-and- 
out  defiance  of  them  and  their  dictates. 

He  knew  that  he  had  absolutely  no  ambitions,  no 
interests  in  common  with  these  schemers,  whose 
sole  idea  lay  in  party  patronage,  in  manipulating 
every  political  opportunity — in  short,  in  reaping 
where  they  had  sown.  The  question  now  confront 
ing  him  was  this :  was  he  prepared  to  sell  his  politi 
cal  birthright  for  the  mess  of  pottage  they  offered 
him? 

He  stood  a  second  at  the  door  of  the  office,  peer 
ing  through  the  reeking,  smoke-filled  atmosphere, 

235 


236  THE  STURDY  OAK 

to  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  situation  before  he 
entered. 

Mr.  Doolittle  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  table  mono- 
loguing  to  Wes'  Norton  and  Pat  Noonan.  Mr. 
Norton  was  the  president  of  the  Whitewater  Com 
mercial  Club,  composed  of  the  leading  merchants 
of  the  town,  and  Mr.  Noonan  was  the  apostle  of  the 
liquor  interests.  Remington  felt  his  back  stiffen  as 
he  stepped  among  them. 

"  Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said  briskly. 

"H'are  ye,  George?"  drawled  Doolittle. 

"  There  was  something  you  wanted  to  discuss 
with  me  ?  " 

"  I  dunno  as  there's  anything  to  discuss,  but 
there's  a  few  things  Wes'  an'  Pat  an'  me'd  like 
to  say  to  ye.  There  ain't  no  two  ways  of  thinkin' 
about  the  prosperity  of  Whitewater,  ye  know, 
George.  The  merchants  in  this  town  is  satisfied 
with  the  way  things  is  boomin'.  The  factory  work 
ers  is  gittin'  theirs,  with  high  wages  an'  overtime. 
The  stockholders  is  makin'  no  kick  on  the  dividends 
— as  ye  know,  George,  being  one  of  them. 

"  Now;  we  don't  want  nuthin'  to  disturb  all  this 


THE  STURDY  OAK  237 

If  the  fact'ries  is  crackin'  the  law  a  bit,  why,  it  ain't 
the  first  time  such  things  has  got  by  the  inspector. 
The  fact'ry  managers  'd  like  some  assurance  from 
ye  that  ye're  goin'  to  keep  yer  hands  off  before  they 
line  up  the  fact'ry  hands  to  vote  for  ye." 

Doolittle  paused  here.    George  nodded. 

"  When  are  ye  comin'  out  with  a  plain  statement 
of  yer  intentions,  George  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Norton 
in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

"  The  voters  in  this  town  will  get  a  clear  state 
ment  of  my  stand  on  all  the  issues  of  this  campaign 
in  plenty  of  time,  gentlemen." 

"  That's  all  right  fer  the  voter,  but  ye  can't  stall 
us  wit'  that  kind  of  talk — "  began  Noonan. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Pat,"  counseled  Doolittle. 
"  George  means  all  right.  He's  new  to  this  game, 
but  he  means  to  stand  fer  the  intrusts  of  his  party, 
don't  ye,  George  ?  " 

"  I  should  scarcely  be  the  candidate  of  that  party 
if  I  did  not." 

"  I  ain't  interested  in  no  oratory.  Are  ye  or  are 
ye  not  goin'  to  keep  yer  hands  off  the  prosperity  of 
Whitewater  ?  "  demanded  Noonan  angrily. 


238  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Look  here,  Noonan,  I  am  the  candidate  for  this 
office — you're  not.  I  intend  to  do  as  my  conscience 
dictates.  I  will  not  be  hampered  at  every  turn,  nor 
told  what  to  say  and  what  to  think.  I  must  get  to 
these  things  in  my  own  way." 

"  Don't  ye  fergit  that  ye're  our  candidate,  that 
ye  are  to  express  the  opinion  of  the  people  who  will 
elect  ye,  and  not  any  dam'  theories  of  yer  own " 

"  I  think  I  get  your  meaning,  Noonan." 

George  spoke  with  a  smile  which  for  some  reason 
disconcerted  Noonan.  He  sensed  with  considerable 
irritation  the  social  and  class  breach  between  him 
self  and  Remington,  and  while  he  did  not  under 
stand  it  he  resented  it.  He  called  him  "  slick  "  to 
Wes'  and  Doolittle  and  loudly  bewailed  their  choice 
of  him  as  candidate. 

"Then  there's  that  P.  L.  bizness,  Pat— don't 
fergit  that,"  urged  Wes'. 

"  I  ain't  fergittin'  it.  There's  too  much  nosin' 
round  Kentwood  district  by  the  women,  George. 
Too  much  talkin'.  Ye'd  better  call  that  off  right 
now.  Property  owners  down  there  is  satisfied,  an' 
they  got  their  rights,  ye  know." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  239 

"  I  suppose  you  know  what  the  conditions  down 
there  are?" 

"  Sure  we  know,  George,  and  we  want  to  clean  it 
up  down  there  just  as  much  as  you  do,"  said  the 
pacific  Doolittle;  "but  what  we're  sayin'  is,  this 
ain't  the  time  to  do  it.  Later,  mebbe,  when  the  con 
ditions  is  jest  right " 

"  Somebody  has  got  the  women  stirred  up  fer 
fair.  It's  up  to  you  to  call  'em  off,  George,"  said 
Mr.  Norton. 

"  How  can  I  call  them  off?  "-^-tartly. 

"  Ye  can  put  the  brakes  on  Mrs.  Remington  and 
that  there  Sheridan  girl,  can't  ye  ?  " 

"  Miss  Sheridan  is  no  longer  in  my  employ.  As 
for  Mrs.  Remington,  if  she  is  not  one  in  spirit  with 
me,  I  cannot  force  her  to  be.  Every  human  being 
has  a  right  to " 

"  Some  change  sence  ye  last  expressed  yerself, 
George.  Seems  like  I  recall  ye  sayin',  '  I'll  settle 
that ! '  "  remarked  Doolittle  coldly. 

"  We  will  leave  my  wife's  name  out  of  the  dis 
cussion,  please,"  said  George  with  tardy  but  noble 
I 

loyalty. 


240  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Well,  them  two  I  mentioned  can  stir  up  some 
trouble ;  but  they  ain't  the  brains  of  their  gang,  by 
a  long  shot.  It's  this  E.  Eliot  we  gotta  deal  with. 
She's  as  smart,  if  not  smarter,  than  any  man  in  this 
town.  She's  smarter  than  you,  George — or  me, 
either,"  he  added  consolingly. 

"I've  seen  her  about,  but  I've  never  talked  to 
her.  What  sort  of  woman  is  she?  " 

"  Quiet,  sensible  kind.  Ye  keep  thinking,  '  How 
reasonable  that  woman  is,'  till  ye  wake  up  and  find 
she's  got  ye  hooked  on  one  of  the  horns  of  yer  own 
damfoolishness !  Slick  as  they  make  'em  and 
straight  as  a  string — that's  E.  Eliot." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  about  it  ?  " — im 
patiently. 

"Are  ye  aimin'  to  answer  them  voiceless  ques 
tions  ?  "  Pat  inquired. 

Silence. 

"  Plannin'  to  tear  down  Kentwood  and  enforce 
them  factory  laws  ?  "  demanded  Wes'  Norton. 

Still  no  answer. 

"I'm  jest  callin'  yer  attention  to  the  fact  that 
this  election  is  gittin'  nearer  every  day." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  241 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  her  ?  I  can't  afford  to 
show  we're  afraid  of  her." 

"  Huh." 

"  I  can't  bribe  her  to  stop." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  the  fella  that  would  try  to  bribe 
E.  Eliot,"  Doolittle  chuckled.  "  Wouldn't  be  enough 
of  him  left  to  put  in  a  teacup." 

"  Then  we've  got  to  ignore  her." 

"  We  can  ignore  her,  all  right,  George ;  but  the 
women  an'  some  of  the  voters  ain't  ignoring  her. 
It's  my  idea  she's  got  a  last  card  up  her  sleeve  to 
play  the  day  before  we  go  to  the  polls  that'll  fix  us." 

"  Have  you  any  plan  in  your  mind  ?  " 

Doolittle  scratched  his  head,  wrestling  with 
thought. 

"We  was  thinking  that  if  she  could  be  called 
away  suddenly,  and  detained  till  after  election — " 
he  began  meaningly. 

"  You  mean " 

"  Something  like  that." 

"  I  won't  have  it,  not  if  I  lose  the  election.  I 
won't  stoop  to  kidnapping  a  woman  like  a  highway 
man.  What  do  you  take  me  for,  Doolittle  ?  " 


242  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Georgie,  politics  ain't  no  kid-glove  bizness.  It 
ain't  what  you  want;  you're  jest  a  small  part  of  this 
affair.  You're  our  candidate,  and  we  got  to  win 
this  here  election.  Do  you  get  me  ?  " 

He  shot  out  his  under  jaw,  and  there  was  no  sign 
of  his  usual  good  humor. 

"  Well,  but " 

"  You  don't  have  to  know  anything  about  this. 
We'll  handle  it.  You'll  be  pertected  to  the  limit; 
don't  you  worry/'  sneered  Noonan. 

"  But  you  can't  get  away  with  this  old-fashioned 
stuff  nowadays,  Doolittle,"  protested  Remington. 

"  Can't  we  ?  You  jest  leave  it  to  your  Uncle 
Benjamin.  You  don't  know  nothing  about  this. 
See?" 

"  I  know  it's  a  dirty,  low,  underhanded " 

"George,"  remarked  Mr.  Doolittle,  slowly  hoist 
ing  his  big  body  on  to  its  short  legs,  "  in  politics  we 
don't  call  a  spade  a  spade.  We  call  it  ( a  agricul 
tural  implument.' ' 

With  this  sage  remark  Mr.  Doolittle  took  his  de 
parture,  followed  by  the  other  prominent  citizens. 

George  sat  where  they  left  him,  head  in  hands, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  243 

i  for  several  moments.  Then  he  sprang  up  and  rushed 
to  the  door  to  call  them  back. 

He  would  not  stand  it — he  would  not  win  at  that 
price.  He  had  conceded  everything  they  had  de 
manded  of  him  up  to  this  point,  but  here  he  drew 
the  line.  Ever  since  that  one  independent  fling  of 
his  about  suffrage  they  had  treated  him  like  a 
naughty  child.  What  did  they  think  he  was — a  rub 
ber  doll?  He  would  telephone  Doolittle  that  he 
would  rather  give  up  his  candidacy.  Here  he  paused. 

Suppose  he  did  withdraw,  nobody  would  under 
stand.  The  town  would  think  the  women  had  fright 
ened  him  off.  He  couldn't  come  out  now  and  de 
nounce  the  machine  methods  of  his  party.  Every 
eye  in  Whitewater  was  focused  on  him ;  his  friends 
were  working  for  him ;  the  district  attorneyship  was 
the  next  step  in  his  career;  Genevieve  expected  him 
to  win — no,  he  must  go  through  with  it!  But  after 
he  got  into  office,  then  he  would  show  them!  He 
would  take  orders  from  no  one.  He  sat  down  again 
and  moodily  surveyed  the  future. 

In  the  days  which  followed,  another  mental  strug 
gle  was  taking  place  in  the  Remington  family. 


244  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Poor  Genevieve  was  like  a  woman  struck  by 
lightning.  She  felt  that  her  whole  structure  of  life 
had  crashed  about  her  ears.  In  one  blinding  flash 
she  had  seen  and  condemned  George  because  he  con 
sidered  political  expediency.  She  realized  that  she 
must  think  for  herself  now  and  not  rely  on  him  for 
the  family  celebration.  She  had  conceived  her  whole 
duty  in  life  to  consist  in  being  George's  wife;  but 
now,  by  a  series  of  accidents,  she  had  become 
aware  of  the  great  social  responsibilities,  the  larger 
human  issues,  which  men  and  women  must  meet 
together. 

Betty  and  E.  Eliot  had  pointed  out  to  her  that  she 
knew  nothing  of  the  conditions  in  her  own  town. 
They  assured  her  that  it  was  as  much  her  duty  to 
know  about  such  things  as  to  know  the  condition  of 
her  own  back  yard. 

Then  came  the  awful  revelations  of  Kent  wood — 
human  beings  huddled  like  rats ;  children  swarming, 
dirty  and  hungry !  She  could  not  bear  to  remember 
the  scenes  she  had  witnessed  in  Kentwood. 

She  recalled  the  shock  of  Alys  Brewster-Smith's 
indifference  to  all  that  misery!  The  widow's  one 


THE  STURDY  OAK  245 

instinct  had  seemed  to  be  to  fight  E.  Eliot  and  the 
health  officer  for  their  interference.  Stranger  still, 
the  tenants  did  not  want  to  be  moved  out,  driven  on. 
The  whole  situation  was  confused,  but  in  it  at  least 
one  thing  stood  out  clearly:  Genevieve  realized, 
during  the  sleepless  night  after  her  visit  to  Kent- 
wood,  that  she  hated  Cousin  Alys ! 

The  following  Sunday,  when  she  put  on  her  coat, 
she  found  a  souvenir  of  that  visit  in4ier  pocket,  a 
soiled  reminder  of  poverty  and  toil.  She  remem 
bered  picking  it  up  and  noting  that  it  was  the  factory 
pass  of  one  Marya  Slavonsky.  She  had  intended  to 
leave  it  with  some  one  in  the  district,  but  evidently 
in  the  excitement  of  her  enforced  exit  she  had  thrust 
it  into  her  pocket. 

This  Marya  worked  in  the  factories.  She  was 
one  of  that  grimy  army  Genevieve  had  seen  coming 
out  of  the  factory  gate,  and  she  went  home  to  that 
pen  which  Cousin  Alys  provided.  Marya  was  a 
girl  of  Genevieve's  own  age,  perhaps,  while  she, 
Genevieve,  had  this  comfortable  home,  and  George ! 
She  had  been  blind,  selfish,  but  she  would  make  up 
for  it,  she  would! 


246  THE  STURDY  OAK 

She  would  make  a  study  of  the  needs  of  such 
people;  she  would  go  among  them  like  St.  Agatha, 
scattering  alms  and  wisdom.  George  might  have 
his  work;  she  had  found  hers!  She  would  begin 
with  the  factory  girls.  She  would  waken  them  to 
what  had  so  lately  dawned  on  her.  How  could  she 
manage  it?  The  rules  of  admission  in  the  muni 
tion  factories  were  very  strict. 

Then  again  her  eye  fell  upon  the  soiled  card  and 
a  great  idea  was  born  in  her  brain.  Dressed  as  a 
factory  girl,  she  would  use  Marya's  card  to  get  her 
into  the  circle  of  these  new-found  sisters.  She 
would  see  how  and  where  they  worked.  She  would 
report  it  all  to  the  Forum  and  to  George.  She  could 
be  of  use  to  George  at  last. 

She  remembered  Betty's  statement  that  at  mid 
night  in  the  factories  the  women  and  girls  had  an 
hour  off.  That  was  the  time  she  chose,  with  true 
dramatic  instinct. 

She  rummaged  in  the  attic  for  an  hour,  getting 
her  costume  ready.  She  decided  on  an  old  black  suit 
and  a  shawl  which  had  belonged  to  her  mother. 
She  carried  these  garments  to  her  bedroom  and  hid 


THE  STURDY  OAK  247 

them  there.  Then,  with  Machiavellian  finesse,  she 
laid  her  plans. 

She  would  slip  out  of  bed  at  half-past  eleven 
o'clock,  taking  care  not  to  waken  George,  and  she 
would  dress  and  leave  the  house  by  the  side  door. 
By  walking  fast  she  could  reach  by  midnight  the 
factory  to  which  she  had  admission. 

It  annoyed  her  considerably  to  have  George  an 
nounce  at  luncheon  that  he  had  a  political  dinner 
on  for  the  evening  and  probably  would  not  be  home 
before  midnight.  He  grumbled  a  little  over  the 
dinner.  "  The  campaign,"  he  said,  "  really  ended 
yesterday.  But  Doolittle  thought  it  was  wise  to 
have  a  last  round-up  of  the  business  men,  and  give 
them  a  final  speech." 

Genevieve  acquiesced  with  a  sympathetic  murmur, 
but  she  was  disappointed.  Merely  to  walk  calmly 
out  of  the  house  at  eleven  o'clock  lessened  the  excite 
ment.  However,  she  decided  upon  leaving  George 
a  note  explaining  that  she  had  gone  to  spend  the 
night  with  Betty  Sheridan. 

She  looked  forward  to  the  long  afternoon  with 
impatience.  Cousin  Emelene  was  taking  her  nap. 


248  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  left  immediately  after  lunch 
to  make  a  call  on  one  of  her  few  women  friends. 
Genevieve  tried  to  get  Betty  on  the  telephone,  but 
she  was  not  at  home. 

It  was  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  that  she  saw  E. 
Eliot  coming  up  the  walk  to  the  door.  She  hurried 
downstairs  just  as  the  maid  explained  that  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith  was  not  at  home. 

"  Oh,  won't  you  come  in  and  see  me  for  a  mo 
ment,  Miss  Eliot?"  Genevieve  begged.  "I  do  so 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

E.  Eliot  hesitated.  "  The  truth  is,  I  am  fearfully 
busy  today,  even  though  it's  Sunday.  I  wanted  to 
get  five  minutes  with  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  about 
those  cottages — "  she  began. 

Genevieve  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  her  arm  and 
led  her  into  the  living-room. 

"  She's  hopeless !  I  can  hardly  bear  to  have  her 
in  my  house  after  the  way  she  acted  about  those 
fearful  places." 

"Well,  all  that  district  is  the  limit,  of  course. 
She  isn't  the  only  landlord." 

"  But  she  didn't  see  those  people." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  249 

"  She's  human,  I  guess — didn't  want  to  see  dis 
turbing  things." 

"  I  would  have  torn  down  those  cottages  with 
my  own  hands !  "  burst  forth  Genevieve. 

E.  Eliot  stared.  "  No  one  likes  her  income  cut 
down,  you  know,"  she  palliated. 

"Income!  What  is  that  to  human  decencies?" 
cried  the  newly  awakened  apostle. 

"  Your  husband  doesn't  entirely  agree  with  you 
in  some  of  these  matters,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  yes  he  does,  in  his;  heart !  But  there's 
something  about  politics  that  won't  let  you  come 
right  out  and  say  what  you  think." 

"  Not  after  you've  come  right  out  once  and  said 
the  wrong  thing,"  laughed  E.  Eliot.  "  I'm  afraid 
you  will  have  to  use  your  indirect  influence  on  him, 
Mrs.  Remington." 

Genevieve  threw  her  cards  on  the  table. 

"  Miss  Eliot,  I  am  just  beginning  to  see  how 
much  there  is  for  women  to  do  in  the  world.  I 
want  to  do  something  big — the  sort  of  thing  you 
and  Betty  Sheridan  are  doing — to  rouse  women. 
What  can  I  do?" 


250  THE  STURDY  OAK 

E.  Eliot  scrutinized  the  ardent  young  face  with 
amiable  amusement. 

"  You  can't  very  well  help  us  just  now  without 
hurting  your  husband's  chances  and  embarrassing 
him  in  the  bargain.  You  see,  we're  trying  to  em 
barrass  him.  We  want  him  to  kick  over  the  traces 
and  tell  what  he's  going  to  do  as  district  attorney 
of  this  town." 

"  But  can't  I  do  something  that  won't  interfere 
with  George?  Couldn't  I  investigate  the  factories, 
or  organize  the  working  girls?  " 

"  My  child,  have  you  ever  organized  anything  ?  " 
exclaimed  E.  Eliot. 

"  No." 

"  Well,  don't  begin  on  the  noble  working  girl. 
She  doesn't  organize  easily.  Wait  until  the  election 
is  over.  Then  you  come  in  on  our  schemes  and 
we'll  teach  you  how  to  do  things.  But  don't  butt 
in  now,  I  beg  of  you.  Misguided,  well-meaning 
enthusiasts  like  you  can  do  more  harm  to 
our  cause  than  all  the  anti-suffragists  in  this 
world!" 

With  her  genial,  disarming  smile,  E.  Eliot  rose 


THE  STURDY  OAK  251 

and  departed.  She  chuckled  all  the  way  back  to 
her  rooms  over  the  idea  of  Remington's  bride 
wanting  to  take  the  field  with  the  enemies  of  her 
wedded  lord. 

"  Women,  women !  God  bless  us,  but  we're 
funny !  "  mused  E.  Eliot. 

Genevieve  liked  her  caller  immensely,  and  she 
thought  over  her  advice,  but  she  determined  to  let 
it  make  no  difference  in  her  plans. 

She  saw  her  work  cut  out  for  her.  She  would  not 
flinch! 

She  would  do  her  bit  in  the  great  cause  of  women 
— no,  of  humanity.  The  flame  of  her  purpose 
burned  steadily  and  high. 

At  a  quarter-past  eleven  that  night  a  slight,  black- 
clad  figure,  with  a  shawl  over  its  head,  softly  closed 
the  side  door  of  the  Remington  house  and  hurried 
down  the  street.  Never  before  had  Genevieve  been 
alone  on  the  streets  after  dark.  She  had  not  fore 
seen  how  frightened  she  would  be  at  the  long,  dark 
stretches,  nor  how  much  more  frightened  when  any 
one  passed  her.  Two  men  spoke  to  her.  She  sped 
on,  turning  now  this  way,  now  that,  without  regard 


252  THE  STURDY  OAK 

to  direction — her  eyes  over  her  shoulder,  in  terror 
lest  she  be  followed. 

So  it  was  that  she  plunged  around  a  corner  and 
into  the  very  arms  of  E.  Eliot,  who  was  sauntering 
home  from  a  political  meeting,  where  she  had  been 
a  much-advertised  speaker.  She  was  in  the  habit 
of  prowling  about  by  herself.  Tonight  she  was,  as 
usual,  unattended — unless  one  observed  two  burly 
workingmen  who  walked  slowly  in  her  wake. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  came  a  gently  modu 
lated  voice  from  behind  the  shawl.  E.  Eliot  stared. 

"No  harm  done  here.  Did  I  hurt  you?"  she 
replied. 

She  thought  she  heard  an  involuntary  "  Oh !  " 
from  beneath  the  shawl. 

"  No,  thanks.  Could  you  tell  me  how  to  get  to 
the  Whitewater  Arms  and  Munitions  Factory? 
I'm  all  turned  around." 

"  Certainly.  Two  blocks  that  way  to  the  State 
Road,  and  half  a  mile  north  on  that.  Shall  I  walk 
to  the  road  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you,"  the  girl  answered  and  hur 
ried  on. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  253 

E.  Eliot  stood  and  watched  her.  Where  had  she 
heard  that  voice  ?  She  knew  a  good  many  girls  who 
worked  at  the  factories,  but  none  of  them  spoke  like 
that.  All  at  once  a  memory  came  to  her :  "  Couldn't 
I  investigate  something,  or  organize  the  working 
girls  ?  "  Mrs.  George  Remington ! 

"  The  little  fool,"  ejaculated  the  other  woman, 
and  turned  promptly  to  follow  the  flying  figure. 

The  two  burly  gentlemen  in  the  rear  also  turned 
and  followed,  but  E.  Eliot  was  too  busy  planning 
how  to  manage  Mrs.  Remington  to  notice  them. 
She  had  to  walk  rapidly  to  keep  her  quarry  in  sight. 
As  she  came  within  some  thirty  yards  of  the  gate 
she  saw  Genevieve  challenge  the  gatekeeper,  present 
her  card  and  slip  inside,  the  gate  clanging  to  be 
hind  her. 

E.  Eliot  broke  into  a  jog  trot,  rounded  the  corner 
of  the  wall,  pulled  herself  up  quickly,  using  the 
stones  of  the  wall  as  footholds.  She  hung  from  the 
top  and  let  herself  drop  softly  inside,  standing  per 
fectly  still  in  the  shadow.  At  the  same  moment  the 
two  burly  gentlemen  ran  round  the  corner  and  saw 
nothing. 


254  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  I  told  ye  to  run — "  began  one  of  them  fiercely. 

"  Aw,  shut  up.  If  she  went  over  here,  she'll 
come  out  here.  We'll  wait." 

The  midnight  gong  and  the  noise  of  the  women 
shuffling  out  into  the  courtyard  drowned  that  con 
versation  for  E.  Eliot.  She  stood  and  watched  the 
gatekeeper  saunter  indoors,  not  waiting  for  the  man 
who  relieved  him  on  duty.  She  watched  Genevieve 
go  forward  and  meet  the  factory  hands. 

The  newcomer  shyly  spoke  to  the  first  group. 
The  eavesdropper  could  not  hear  what  she  said. 
But  the  crowd  gathered  about  the  speaker,  shuffling, 
charring,  finally  listening.  Somebody  captured  the 
gatekeeper's  stool  and  Genevieve  stood  on  it. 

"  What  I  want  to  tell  you  is  how  beautiful  it  is 
for  women  to  stand  together  and  work  together  to 
make  the  world  better,"  she  began. 

"  Say,  what  is  your  job  ? "  demanded  a  girl, 
suspicious  of  the  soft  voice  and  modulated 
speech. 

"  Well,  I — I  only  keep  house  now.  But  I  intend 
to  begin  to  do  a  great  deal  for  the  community,  for 
all  of  you -" 


THE  STURDY  OAK  255 

"  She  keeps  house  —  poor  little  overworked 
thing!" 

"  But  the  point  is,  not  what  you  do,  but  the  spirit 
you  do  it  in " 

"  What  is  this,  a  revival  meetin'  ?  " 

"  So  I  want  to  tell  you  what  the  women  of  this 
town  mean  to  do." 

"Hear!    Hear!    Listen  at  the  suffragette!" 

"  First,  we  mean  to  clean  up  the  Kentwood  dis 
trict.  You  all  know  how  awful  those  cottages  are." 

"  Sure ;  we  live  in  'em !  " 

"  We  intend  to  force  the  landlords  to  tear  them 
down  and  improve  all  that  district." 

"  Much  obliged,  lady,  and  where  do  we  go  ?  "  de 
manded  one  of  her  listeners. 

"  You  must  have  better  living  conditions." 

"  But  where  ?  Rents  in  this  town  has  boomed 
since  the  war  began.  Ain't  that  got  to  you  yet? 
There  ain't  no  place  left  fer  the  poor." 

"  Then  we  must  find  places  and  make  them 
healthy  and  beautiful." 

"For  the  love  of  Mike!  She's  talkin'  about 
heaven,  ain't  she  ?  " 


256  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  She's  talkin'  through  her  hat !  "  cried  another. 

"  Then,  we  mean  to  make  the  factories  obey  the 
laws.  They  have  no  right  to  make  you  girls  work 
here  at  night." 

"Who's  makin'  us?" 

"  We  are  going  to  force  the  factories  to  obey  the 
letter  of  the  law  on  our  statute  books." 

A  thin,  flushed  girl  stepped  out  of  the  crowd  and 
faced  her. 

"Say,  who  is  'we'?" 

"  Why,  all  of  us,  the  women  of  Whitewater." 

"  How  are  we  goin'  to  repay  the  women  of  White 
water  fer  tearin'  down  our  homes  an'  takin'  away 
our  jobs?  Ain't  there  somethin'  we  can  do  to  show 
our  gratitood  ?  "  the  new  speaker  asked  earnestly. 

"  Go  to  it — let  her  have  it,  Mamie  Flynn !  "  cried 
the  crowd. 

"  Oh,  but  you  mustn't  look  at  it  that  way !  We 
must  all  make  some  sacrifices " 

"  Cut  that  slush !  What  do  you  know  about  sac 
rifices?  I'm  on  to  you.  You're  one  of  them  up 
town  reformers.  What  do  you  know  about  sacri- 
y\  fices  ?  Ye  got  a  sure  place  to  sleep,  ain't  ye  ?  Ye Ve 


THE  STURDY  OAK  257 

got  a  full  belly  an'  a  husband  to  give  ye  spendin' 
money,  ain't  ye?  Don't  ye  come  down  here  gittin' 
our  jobs  away  an'  then  fergettin'  all  about  us !  " 

There  was  a  buzz  of  agreement  and  an  under 
tone  of  anger  which  to  an  experienced  speaker 
would  have  been  ominous.  But  Genevieve  blun 
dered  on :  "  We  only  want  to  help  you " 

"  We  don't  want  yer  help  ner  yer  advice.  You 
keep  yer  hands  off  our  business !  Do  yer  preachin' 
uptown — that's  where  they  need  it.  Ask  the  land 
lords  of  Kent  wood  and  the  stockholders  in  the 
munition  factories  to  make  some  sacrifices,  an'  see 
where  that  gits  ye !  But  don't  ye  come  down  here, 
a-spyin'  on  us,  ye  dirty " 

The  last  words  were  happily  lost  as  the  crowd  of 
girls  closed  in  on  Genevieve  with  cries  of  "  Spy !  " 
"Scab!"  "Throw  her  out!" 

They  had  nearly  torn  her  clothes  off  before 
E.  Eliot  was  among  them.  She  sprang  up  on  the 
chair  and  shouted: 

"  Girls — here,  hold  on  a  minute." 

There  was  a  hush.  Some  one  called  out :  "  It's 
Miss  E.  Eliot." 


258  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Listen  a  minute.  Don't  waste  your  time  get 
ting  mad  at  this  girl.  She's  a  friend  of  mine. 
And  you  may  not  believe  me,  but  she  means  all 
right." 

"  What's  she  pussyf ootin'  in  here  for  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  the  story  of  the  man  from 
Pittsburgh  who  died  and  went  on?  "  cried  E.  Eliot. 
"  Some  kindly  spirit  showed  him  round  the  place, 
and  the  newcomer  said :  *  Well,  I  don't  think 
heaven's  got  anything  on  Pittsburgh/  '  This  isn't 
heaven! '  said  the  spirit." 

There  was  a  second's  pause,  and  then  the  laugh 
came. 

"  Now,  this  girl  has  just  waked  up  to  the  fact 
that  Whitewater  isn't  heaven,  and  she  thought 
you'd  like  to  hear  the  news !  I'll  take  the  poor  lamb 
home,  put  cracked  ice  on  her  head  and  let  her  sleep 
it  off." 

They  laughed  again. 

"  Go  to  it,"  said  the  erstwhile  spokeswoman  for 
the  working  girls. 

E.  Eliot  called  them  a  cheery  good-night.  The 
factory  girls  drifted  away,  in  little  groups,  leaving 


THE  STURDY  OAK  259 

Genevieve,  bedraggled  and  hysterical,  clinging  to  her 
rescuer. 

"  They  would  have  killed  me  if  you  hadn't  come !  " 
she  gasped. 

E.  Eliot  thought  quickly. 

"  Stand  here  in  the  shadow  of  the  fence  till  I 
come  back,"  she  said.  "  It  will  be  all  right.  I've 
got  to  run  into  the  office  and  send  a  telephone 
message.  I  have  a  pal  there  who  will  let  me 
do  it." 

"  You — you  won't  be  long?  " 

It  was  clear  that  the  nerve  of  Mrs.  Remington 
was  quite  gone. 

"  I  won't  be  gone  five  minutes." 

E.  Eliot  was  as  good  as  her  word. 

When  she  returned  she  seized  the  stool  on  which 
her  companion  had  made  her  maiden  speech — ran 
to  the  wall,  placed  it  at  the  spot  where  she  had  made 
her  entrance  and  urged  Genevieve  to  climb  up  and 
drop  over;  as  she  obeyed,  E.  Eliot  mounted  beside 
her.  They  dropped  off,  almost  at  the  same  moment 
— into  arms  upheld  to  catch  them. 

Genevieve  screamed,  and  was  promptly  choked. 


260  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"What'll  we  do  with  this  extra  one?"  asked  a 
hoarse  voice. 

"  Bring  her.  There's  no  time  to  waste  now.  If 
ye  yell  again,  ye'll  both  be  strangled,"  the  second 
speaker  added  as  he  led  the  way  toward  the  road, 
where  the  dimmed  lights  of  a  motor  car  shone. 

He  was  carrying  E.  Eliot  as  if  she  were  a  doll. 
Behind  him  his  assistant  stumbled  along,  bearing, 
less  easily  but  no  less  firmly,  the,  wife  of  the  candi 
date  for  district  attorney ! 


CHAPTER  XII 

BY  WILLIAM  ALLEN  WHITE 

As  the  two  gagged  women — one  comfortably 
gagged  with  more  or  less  pleasant  bandages  made 
and  provided,  the  other  gagged  by  the  large,  smelly 
hand  of  an  entire  stranger  to  Mrs.  George  Reming 
ton — whom  she  was  trying  impolitely  to  bite,  by  way 
of  introduction — were  speeding  through  the  night, 
Mr.  George  Remington,  ending  a  long  and  late 
speech  before  the  Whitewater  Business  Men's  Club, 
was  saying  these  things : 

"  I  especially  deplore  this  modern  tendency  to 
talk  as  though  there  were  two  kinds  of  people  in  this 
country — those  interested  in  good  government,  and 
those  interested  in  bad  government.  We  are  all 
good  Americans.  We  are  all  interested  in  good 
government.  Some  of  us  believe  good  government 
may  be  achieved  through  a  protective  tariff  and  a 

proper  consideration  for  prosperity   [cheers],  and 

261 


262  THE  STURDY  OAK 

others,  in  their  blindness,  bow  down  to  wood  and 
stone!" 

He  smiled  amiably  at  the  laughter,  and  continued : 

"  But  while  some  of  us  see.  things  differently  as 
to  means,  our  aims  are  essentially  the  samje.  You 
don't  divide  people  according  to  trades  and  callings. 
I  deplore  this  attempt  to  set  the  patriotic  merchant 
against  the  patriotic  saloonkeeper;  the  patriotic 
follower  of  the  race  track  against  the  patriotic 
manufacturer. 

"  Here  is  my  good  friend,  Benjie  Doolittle. 
When  he  played  the  ponies  in  the  old  days,  before 
he  went  into  the  undertaking  and  furniture  business, 
was  he  less  patriotic  than  now?  Was  he  less  pa 
triotic  then  than  my  Uncle  Martin  Jaffry  is  now, 
with  all  his  manufacturer's  interest  in  a  stable 
government  ?  And  is  my  Uncle  Martin  Jaffry  more 
patriotic  than  Pat  Noonan  ?  Or  is  Pat  less  patriotic 
than  our  substantial  merchant,  Wesley  Norton  ? 

"  Down  with  this  talk  that  would  make  lines  of 
moral  and  patriotic  cleavage  along  lines  of  vocation 
or  calling.  I  want  no  votes  of  those  who  pretend 
that  the  good  Americans  should  vote  in  on.e  box  and 


THE  STURDY  OAK  263 

the  bad  Americans  in  another  box.  I  want  the  votes 
of  those  of  all  castes  and  cults  who  believe  in  pros 
perity  [loud  cheers],  and  I  want  the  votes  of  those 
who  believe  in  the  glorious  traditions  of  our  party, 
its  magnificent  principles,  its  martyred  heroes,  its 
deathless  name  in  our  history!  " 

It  was,  of  course,  an  after-dinner  speech.  Being 
the  last  speech  of  the  campaign  it  was  also  a  highly 
important  one.  But  George  Remington  felt,  as  he 
sat  listening  to  the  din  of  the  applause,  that  he  had 
answered  rather  neatly  those  who  said  he  was 
wabbling  on  the  local  economic  issue  and  was  sway 
ing  in  the  wind  of  socialist  agitation  which  the 
women  had  started  in  Whitewater. 

As  he  left  the  hotel  where  the  dinner  had  been 
given,  he  met  his  partner  on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Get  in,  Penny,"  he  urged,  jumping  into  his  car. 
"  Come  out  to  the  house  for  the  night,  and  we'll 
have  Betty  over  to  breakfast.  Then  she  and  Gene- 
vieve  and  you  and  I  will  see  if  we  can't  restore  the 
ante-bellum  modus  vivendi!  Come  on!  Emelene 
and  Alys  always  breakfast  in  bed,  anyway,  and  it 
will  be  no  trouble  to  get  Betty  over." 


264  THE  STURDY  OAK 

The  two  men  rode  home  in  complacent  silence. 
It  was  long  past  midnight.  They  sat  on  the  veranda 
to  finish  their  cigars  before  going  into  the  house. 

"  Penny,"  asked  George  suddenly,  "  what  has  Pat 
Noonan  got  in  this  game — I  mean  against  the  agi 
tation  by  the  women  and  this  investigation  of  condi 
tions  in  Kentwood?  Why  should  he  agonize 
over  it?" 

"  Is  he  fussing  about  it?  " 

"  Is  he  ?  Do  you  think  I'd  tie  his  name  up  in  a 
public  speech  with  Martin  Jaffry  if  Pat  wasn't  off 
the  reservation?  You  could  see  him  swell  up  like 
a  pizened  pup  when  I  did  it !  I  hope  Uncle  Martin 
will  not  be  offended." 

"  He's  a  good  sport,  George.  But  say — what  did 
Pat  do  to  give  you  this  hunch  ?  " 

Remington  smoked  in  meditative  silence,  then 
answered : 

"  Well,  Penny,  I  had  to  raise  the  devil  of  a  row 
the  other  day  to  keep  Pat  from  ribbing  up  Benjie 
Doolittle  and  the  organization  to  a  frame-up  to 
kidnap  this  Eliot  person." 

"  Kidnap  E.  Eliot!  "  gasped  the  amazed  Evans. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  265 

"  Kidnap  that  very  pest.  And  I  tell  you,  man,  if 
I  hadn't  roared  like  a  stuck  ox  they  would  have  done 
it!  Fancy  introducing  'Prisoner  of  Zenda '  stuff 
into  the  campaign  in  Whitewater!  Though  I  will 
say  this,  Penny,  as  between  old  army  friends  and 
college  chums,"  continued  Mr.  Remington  earnestly, 
"  if  a  warrior  bold  with  spurs  of  gold,  who  was 
slightly  near-sighted  and  not  particular  about  his 
love  being  so  damned  young  and  fair,  would  swoop 
down  and  carry  this  E.  Eliot  off  to  his  princely 
donjon,  and  would  let  down  the  portcullis  for  two 
days,  until  the  election  is  over,  it  would  help 
some!  Though  otherwise  I  don't  wish  her  any 
bad  luck!" 

The  old  army  friend  and  college  chum  laughed. 

"  Well,  that's  your  end  of  the  story !  I'm  mighty 
glad  you  stopped  it.  Here's  my  end.  You  remem 
ber  two-fingered  Moll,  who  was  our  first  client? 
The  one  who  insisted  on  being  referred  to  as  a  lady? 
The  one  who  got  converted  and  quit  the  game  and 
who  thought  she  was  being  pursued  by  the  race 
track  gang  because  she  was  trying  to  live  decent  ?  " 

George  smiled  in  remembrance. 


266  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Well,  she  called  me  up  to  know  if  there  was 
any  penalty  for  renting  a  house  to  Mike  the  Goat 
and  his  wife  and  old  Salubrious  the  Armenian,  who 
had  a  lady  friend  they  were  keeping  from  the  cops 
against  her  will.  She  said  they  weren't  going  vo 
hurt  the  lady,  and  I  could  see  her  every  day  to  prove 
it.  I  advised  her  to  keep  out  of  it,  of  course;  but 
she  was  strong  for  it,  because  of  what  she  called 
the  big  money.  I  explained  carefully  that  if  any 
thing  should  happen,  her  past  reputation  would  go 
against  her.  But  she  kept  saying  it  was  straight, 
until  I  absolutely  forbade  her  to  do  it,  and  she 
promised  not  to." 

"  Mike  and  his  woman,  and  Old  Salubrious ! " 
echoed  Remington.  "  And  E.  Eliot  locked  up  with 
them  for  two  days !  " 

He  shivered,  partly  at  the  memory  of  his  own 
mealy-mouthed  protest. 

"  Well/'  he  said,  and  there  was  an  air  of  finality 
in  his  tone,  "  I'm  glad  I  stopped  the  whole  infamous 
business." 

Mentally  he  decided  to  get  Noonan  on  the  tele 
phone  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  make  cer- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  267 

tain  that  the  plan  was  abandoned.     He  continued 
his  chat  with  Evans. 

"But,  Penny,  why  this  agonizing  of  Noonan? 
What  has  he  to  lose  by  the  better  conditions  in 
Kentwood  ?  Why  should  he " 

Outside  of  a  neat  white  dwelling  in  the  suburbs 
of  Whitewater,  four  figures  were  struggling  in  the 
night  toward  a  vine-covered  door — that  door  which 
appeared  so  attractively  in  the  Welfare  Bulletin  of 
the  Toledo  Blade  Steel  Company's  publicity  pro 
gram  as  the  "  prize  garden  home  of  J.  Agricola, 
roller." 

A  woman  stood  in  the  doorway,  holding  the  door 
open.  Two  women,  who  had  been  carried  by  two 
men,  from  an  automobile  at  the  gate,  were  forced 
through.  There  the  men  left  them  with  their 
hostess. 

"  I  was  only  looking  for  one  of  yez,"  she  said, 
hospitably,  "but  you're  bote  welcome.  Now, 
ladies,  I'm  goin'  to  make  you  comfortable.  It  won't 
do  no  good  to  scream,  so  I'm  goin'  to  take  your  gags 
off.  And  I  hope  you,  lady,  haven't  been  inconven- 


268  THE  STURDY  OAK 

ienced  by  a  handkerchief.  We  could  just  as  well 
have  arranged  for  your  comfort,  too." 

"  Madam,"  gasped  E.  Eliot,  who  was  the  first  to 
be  released  to  speech,  "  it  is  unimportant  who  I 
am.  But  do  you  know  that  this  woman  with  me  is 
Mrs.  George  Remington,  the  wife  of  the  candidate 
for  district  attorney — Mr.  George  Remington  of 
Whitewater?  There  has  been  a  mistake." 

The  hostess  looked  at  Genevieve,  who  nodded  a 
tearful  confirmation.  But  the  woman  only  smiled. 

"  My  man  don't  make  mistakes,"  she  said  laconi 
cally.  "  And,  what's  more  to  the  point,  miss,  he's  a 
friend  of  George  Remington,  and  why  should  he  be 
giving  his  lady  a  vacation?  You  are  E.  Eliot,  and 
your  friends  think  you're  workin'  too  hard,  so 
they're  goin'  to  give  you  a  nice  rest.  Nothin' 
will  happen  to  you  if  you  are  a  lady,  as  I  think  you 
are.  And  when  I  find  out  who  this  other  lady  is, 
we'll  make  her  as  welcome  as  you !  " 

She  went  out  of  the  room,  locking  the  door  be 
hind  her  as  the  two  women  struggled  vainly  with 
their  bonds.  In  an  instant  she  returned. 

"  My  man  says  to  tell  the  one  who  thinks  she's 


THE  STURDY  OAK  269 

Mrs.  George  Remington  that  she's  spendin'  the 
week-end  with  Mrs.  Napoleon  Boneypart,"  she 
called.  "  My  man  says  he's  a  good  friend  of  George 
Remington  and  is  supportin'  him  for  district  attor 
ney,  and  that's  how  he  can  make  it  so  pleasant  here. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  something  else,"  she  continued 
proudly.  "  When  George  got  married,  it  was  my 
man  that  went  up  and  down  Smoky  Row  and  seen 
all  the  girls  and  got  'em  to  give  a  dollar  apiece  for 
them  lovely  roses  labeled  '  The  Young  Men's  Repub 
lican  Club/  Mr.  Doolittle  he  seen  to  that.  My 
man  really  collected  fifty  dollars  more'n  he  turned 
in,  and  I  got  a  diamond-set  wrist  watch  with 
it!  So,  you  see,  we're  real  friendly  with  them 
Remingtons,  and  we're  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs. 
Remington ! " 

"  Oh,  how  horrible !  "  cried  Genevieve.  "  There 
were  eight  dozen  of  those  roses  from  the  Young 
Men's  Republican  Club,  and  to  think —  Oh,  to 
think " 

"Well,  now,  George,"  cried  Mr.  Penfield  Evans, 
"just  stop  and  think.  Use  your  bean,  my  boy! 


270  THE  STURDY  OAK 

What  is  the  one  thing  on  earth  that  puts  the  fear  of 
God  into  Pat  Noonan?  It's  prohibition.  Look  at 
the  prohibition  map  out  West  and  at  the  suffrage 
map  out  West.  They  fit  each  other  like  the  paper 
on  the  wall.  Whatever  women  may  lack  in  intelli 
gence  about  some  things,  there  is  one  thing  woman 
knows — high  and  low,  rich  and  poor!  She  knows 
that  the  saloon  is  her  enemy,  and  she  hits  it;  and 
Pat  Noonan,  seeing  this  rise  of  women  investi 
gating  industry,  makes  common  cause  with 
Martin  Jaffry  and  the  whole  employing  class  of 
Whitewater  against  the  nosey  interference  of 
women. 

"And  Pat  Noonan  is  depending  on  you,'*  con 
tinued  Evans.  ".He  expects  you  to  rise.  He  ex 
pects  you  to  go  to  Congress — possibly  to  the  Senate, 
and  he  figures  that  he  wants  to  be  dead  sure  you'll 
not  get  to  truckling  to  decency  on  the  liquor  ques 
tion.  So  he  ties  you  up — or  tries  you  out  for  a 
tie-up  or  a  kidnapping;  and  Benjie  Doolittle,  who 
likes  a  sporting  event,  takes  a  chance  that  you'll 
stand  hitched  in  a  plan  to  rid  the  community  of  a 
political  pest  without  seriously  hurting  the  pest- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  271 

friendless  old  maid  who  won't  be  missed  for  a  day 
or  two,  and  whose  disappearance  can  be  hushed  up 
one  way  or  another  after  she  appears  too  late  for 
the  election. 

"  Just  figure  things  out,  George.  Do  you  think 
Noonan  got  Mike  the  Goat  to  assess  the  girls  on  the 
row  a  dollar  apiece  for  your  flowers  from  the  Young 
Men's  Republican  Club,  for  his  health!  You  had 
the  grace  to  thank  Pat,  but  if  you  didn't  know 
where  they  came  from,"  explained  Mr.  Evans 
cynically,  "  it  was  because  you  have  forgotten  where 
all  Pat's  floral  offerings  from  the  Y.  M.  R.  C. 
come  from  at  weddings  and  funerals!  And  Pat 
feels  that  you're  his  kind  of  people. 

"  Politics,  George,  is  not  the  chocolate  eclair  that 
you  might  think  it,  if  you  didn't  know  it !  Use  your 
bean,  my  boy !  Use  your  bean !  And  you'll  see  why 
Pat  Noonan  lines  up  with  the  rugged  captains  of 
industry  who  are  the  bulwarks  of  our  American 
liberty.  Pat  uses  his  head  for  something  more  than 
a  hatrack." 

The  two  puffed  for  a  time  in  silence.  Finally  the 
host  said:  "  Well,  let's  turn  in." 


272  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Three  minutes  later  George  called  across  the 
upper  hall  to  Penfield. 

"  The  joke's  on  us,  Penny.  Here's  a  note  saying 
that  Genevieve  is  over  with  Betty  for  the  night. 
We'll  call  her  up  after  breakfast  and  have  them 
both  over  to  a  surprise  party." 

Penny  strolled  across  to  his  friend's  door.  He 
was  disappointed,  and  he  showed  it.  He  found 
George  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed. 

"  Penny,"  mused  the  Young  Man  in  Politics,  in 
his  finest  mood,  "  you  know  I  sometimes  think 
that,  perhaps,  way  down  deep,  there  is  something 
wrong  with  our  politics.  I  don't  like  to  be  hooked 
up  with  Noonan  and  his  gang.  And  I  don't  like  the 
way  Noonan  and  his  gang  are  hooked  up  with 
Wesley  Norton  and  the  silk  stockings  and  Uncle 
Martin  and  the  big  fellows.  Why  can't  we  get  rid 
of  the  Noonan  influence?  They  aren't  after  the 
things  we're  after !  They  only  furnish  the  unthink 
ing  votes  that  make  majorities  that  elect  the  fellows 
the  big  crooks  handle.  Lord,  man,  it's  a  dirty  mess ! 
And  why  women  want  to  get  into  the  dirty  mess  is 
more  than  I  can  see." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  273 

"  What  a  sweet  valedictory  address  you  are  mak 
ing  for  a  young  ladies'  school !  "  scoffed  Penny. 
"  The  hills  are  green  far  off !  Aren't  you  the  Sweet 
Young  Thing.  But  I'll  tell  you  why  the  women 
want  to  get  in,  George.  They  think  they  want  to 
clean  up  the  mess." 

"But  would  they  clean  it?  Wouldn't  they  vote 
about  as  we  vote  ?  " 

"  Well,"  answered  Mr.  Evans  with  the  cynicism 
of  the  judicial  mind,  "  let's  see.  You  know  now,  if 
you  didn't  know  at  the  time,  that  Noonan  got  Mike 
the  Goat  to  assess  the  disorderly  houses  for  the 
money  to  buy  your  wedding  roses  from  the  Y.  M. 
R.  C.  All  right.  Noonan's  bartender  is  on  the 
ticket  with  you  as  assemblyman.  Are  you  going  to 
vote  for  him  or  not?  " 

"  But,  Penny,  I've  just  about  got  to  vote  for 
him." 

"All  right,  then.  I'll  tell  Genevieve  the  truth 
about  Noonan  and  the  flowers,  and  I'll  ask  her  if 
she  would  feel  that  she  had  to  vote  for  Noonan's 
bartender !  "  retorted  Mr.  Evans.  "  Giving  women 
the  ballot  will  help  at  least  that  much.  If  the 


274  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Noonans  stay  in  politics,  they'll  get  no  help  from 
the  women  when  they  vote !  " 

"  But  aren't  we  protecting  the  women  ?  " 

"  Anyway,  Mrs.  Remington,"  said  E.  Eliot  com 
fortably,  "  I'm  glad  it  happened  just  this  way. 
Without  you,  they  would  hold  me  until  after  the 
election  on  Tuesday.  With  you,  about  tomorrow 
at  ten  o'clock  we  shall  be  released.  E.  Eliot  alone 
they  have  made  every  provision  for  holding.  They 
have  started  a  scandal,  I  don't  doubt,  necessary  to 
explain  my  absence,  and  pulled  the  political  wires 
to  keep  me  from  making  a  fuss  about  it  afterward. 
They  know  their  man  in  the  district  attorney's 
office,  and " 

"  Do  you  mean  George  Remington  ?  "  This  from 
his  wife,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  I  mean,"  explained  E.  Eliot  unabashed,  "  that 
for  some  reason  they  feel  safe  with  George  Reming 
ton  in  the  district  attorney's  office,  or  they  would 
not  kidnap  me  to  prevent  his  defeat!  That  is  the 
cold-blooded  situation." 

"  This  party,"  E.  Eliot  smiled,  "  is  given  at  the 


THE  STURDY  OAK  275 

country  home  of  Mike  the  Goat,  as  nearly  as  I  can 
figure  it  out.  Mike  is  a  right-hand  man  of  Noonan. 
Noonan  is  a  right-hand  man  of  Benjie  Doolittle  and 
Wesley  Norton,  and  they  are  all  a  part  of  the  system 
that  holds  Martin  Jaffry's  industries  under  the  ami 
able  beneficence  of  our  sacred  protective  tariff! 
Hail,  hail,  the  gang's  all  here — what  do  we  care 
now,  my  dear?  And  because  you  are  here  and  are 
part  of  the  heaven-born  combination  for  the  public 
good,  I  am  content  to  go  through  the  rigors  of  one 
night  without  a  nightie  for  the  sake  of  the  cause !  " 

"  But  they  don't  know  who  I  am !  "  protested  Mrs. 
Remington.  "  And " 

"  Exactly,  and  for  that  reason  they  don't  know 
who  you  are  not.  Tomorrow  the  whole  town  will 
be  looking  for  you,  and  Noonan  will  hear  who  you 
are  and  where  you  are.  Then !  Say,  girl — say,  girl, 
it  will  be  grist  for  our  mill!  Fancy  the  headlines 
all  over  the  United  States : 

'  GANG  KIDNAPS  CANDIDATE'S  WIFE 

MYSTERY  SHROUDS  PLOT 
CANDIDATE  REMINGTON  is  SILENT/  " 


276  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  But  he  won't  be  silent,"  protested  the  indignant 
Genevieve.  "  I  tell  you,  he'll  denounce  it  from  the 
platform.  He'll  never  let  this  outrage " 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  the  imperturbable  E.  Eliot, 
"  when  he  denounces  this  plot  he'll  have  to  denounce 
Doolittle  and  Noonan,  and  probably  Norton,  and 
maybe  his  Uncle  Martin  Jaffry.  Somebody  is  pay 
ing  big  money  for  this  job!  I  said  the  headlines 
will  declare: 

*  CANDIDATE  REMINGTON  is  SILENT 

But  Still  Maintains  That  Women  Are  Protected 

from  Rigors  of  Cruel  World  by  Man's 

Chivalry.'  " 

"Oh,  Miss  Eliot,  don't!  How  can  you?  Oh,  I 
know  George  will  not  let  this  outrage " 

"  Of  course  not,"  hooted  E.  Eliot.  "JThe  sturdy 
oak  will  support  the  clinging  vine !  But  while  he  is 
doing  it  he  will  be  defeated.  And  if  he  doesn't  pro 
test  he  will  be  defeated,  for  I  shall  talk!  " 

"  George  Remington  will  face  defeat  like  a  gen 
tleman,  Miss  Eliot;  have  no  fear  of  that.  He  will 
speak  out,  no  matter  what  happens." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  277 

"  And  when  he  speaks,  when  he  tells  the  truth 
about  this  whole  alliance  between  the  greedy,  ruth 
less  rich  and  the  brutal,  vicious  dregs  of  this  com 
munity — our  cause  is  won !  " 

The  next  morning  George  Remington  reached 
from  his  bed  for  his  telephone  and  called  up  the 
Sheridan  residence.  Two  minutes  later  Penfield 
Evans  heard  a  shout.  At  his  door  stood  the  unclad 
and  pallid  candidate  for  district  attorney. 

"  Penny,"  he  gasped,  "  Genevieve's  not  there ! 
She  has  not  been  with  Betty  all  night.  And  Betty 
has  gone  out  to  find  E.  Eliot,  who  is  missing  from 
her  boarding-house !  " 

"  Are  you  sure " 

"  God — Penny — I  thought  I  had  stopped  it !  " 

George  was  back  in  his  room,  flying  into  his 
clothes.  The  two  men  were  talking  loudly.  From 
down  the  hall  a  sleepy  voice — unmistakably  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith's — was  drawling : 

"  George — George — are  you  awake  ?  I  didn't 
hear  you  come  in.  Dear  Genevieve  went  over  to 
stay  all  night  with  Cousin  Betty,  and  the  oddest 


278  THE  STURDY  OAK 

thing  happened.  About  midnight  the  telephone  bell 
rang,  and  that  odious  Eliot  person  called  you  up !  " 

George  was  in  the  hall  in  an  instant  and  before 
Mrs.  Brewster-Smith's  door. 

"Well,  well,  for  God's  sake,  what  did  she  say!  " 
he  cried. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  was  coming  to  that.  She  said  to 
send  your  chauffeur  with  the  car  down  to  the — oh, 
I  forget,  some  nasty  factory  or  something,  for  Gene- 
vieve.  She  said  Genevieve  was  down  there  talking 
to  the  factory  girls.  Fancy  that,  George!  So  I 
just  put  up  the  receiver.  I  knew  Genevieve  was 
with  Betty  Sheridan  and  not  with  that  odious  per 
son  at  all — it  was  some  ruse  to  get  your  car  and  com 
promise  you.  Fancy  dear  Genevieve  talking  to  the 
factory  girls  at  midnight !  " 

Penfield  Evans  and  George  Remington,  standing 
in  the  hall,  listened  to  these  words  with  terror  in 
their  hearts. 

"  Get  Noonan  first/'  said  George.  "  I'll  talk  to 
him." 

In  five  seconds  Evans  had  Noonan's  residence. 
Remington  listened  to  Penny's  voice. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  279 

"  Gone,"  he  was  saying.  "  Gone  where  ?  "  And 
then :  "  Why,  he  was  at  the  dinner  last —  What's 
Doolittle's  number?"  ("  Noonan  went  to  New 
York  on  the  midnight  train,"  he  threw  at  George.) 
A  moment  later  Remington  heard  his  partner  cry, 
"  Doolittle's  gone  to  New  York  ?  On  the  midnight 
train?" 

"  Try  Norton,"  snapped  George.  Soon  he  heard 
Penny  exclaim.  "Albany?"  said  Penny.  "Mr. 
Norton  is  in  Albany  ?  Thank  you !  " 

"  Their  alibis !  "  said  Evans  calmly,  as  he  hung 
up  the  receiver  and  stared  at  his  partner. 

"Well,  it — it —  Why,  Penny,  they've  stolen 
Genevieve!  That  damned  Mike  and  the  Arme 
nian!  They've  got  Genevieve  with  that  Eliot 
woman!  God —  Why,  Penny,  for  God's  sake, 
what " 

"  Slowly,  George  —  slowly.  Let's  move  care 
fully." 

The  voice  of  Penfield  Evans  was  cool  and  steady.. 

"  First  of  all,  we  need  not  worry  about  any  harm 
coming  to  Genevieve.  She  is  with  Miss  Eliot,  and 
that  woman  has  more  sense  than  a  man.  She  may 


280  THE  STURDY  OAK 

be  depended  upon.  Now,  then,"  Evans  waved  his 
partner  to  silence  and  went  on :  "  the  next  thing  to 
consider  is  how  much  publicity  we  shall  give  this 
episode."  He  paused. 

"It's  not  a  matter  of  publicity;  it's  a  matter  of 
getting  Genevieve  immediately." 

"  An  hour  or  so  of  publicity  of  the  screaming, 
hysterical  kind  will  not  help  us  to  find  Genevieve. 
But  when  we  do  find  her,  our  publicity  will  have  de 
feated  you !  " 

The  two  men  stared  at  each  other.  Remington 
said :  "  You  mean  I  must  shield  the  organiza 
tion  ! " 

"  If  you  are  to  be  elected — yes !  " 

"  Do  you  think  Genevieve  and  Miss  Eliot  would 
consent  to  shield  the  organization  when  we  find 
them?  Why,  Penny,  you're  mad!  We  must  call 
up  the  chief  of  police !  We  must  scour  the  country! 
I  propose  to  go  right  to  the  newspapers !  The  more 
people  who  know  of  this  dastardly  thing  the  sooner 
we  shall  recover  the  victims !  " 

"  And  the  sooner  Noonan,  when  he  comes  home 
tonight,  will  denounce  you  as  an  accessory  before 


THE  STURDY  OAK  281 

the  fact,  with  Norton  and  Doolittle  as  corroborat 
ing  witnesses  for  him !  Oh,  you're  learning  politics 
fast,  George !  " 

The  thought  of  what  Gene  vie  ve  would  say  when 
she  knew,  through  Noonan  and  Doolittle,  that  he 
had  heard  of  the  plot  to  kidnap  Miss  Eliot,  and 
within  an  hour  had  talked  to  his  wife  casually  at 
luncheon  without  saying  anything  about  it,  made 
George's  heart  stop.  He  realized  that  he  was  learn 
ing  something  more  than  politics.  He  walked  the 
floor  of  the  room. 

"  Weil,"  he  said  at  last,  "  let's  call  in  Uncle  Mar 
tin  Jaffry.  He " 

"Yes;  he  is  probably  paying  for  the  job.  He 
might  know  something !  I'll  get  him." 

"  Paying  for  the  job !  Do  you  think  he  knew  of 
this  plot?"  cried  George  as  Evans  stood  at  the 
telephone. 

"  Oh,  no.  He  just  knew,  in  a  leer  from  Doolittle, 
that  they  had  extraordinary  need  for  five  thousand 
dollars  or  so  in  your  behalf — that  they  had  con 
sulted  you.  And  then  Doolittle  winked  and  Noonan 
cocked  his  head  rakishly,  and  Uncle  Martin  put — 


282  THE  STURDY  OAK 

Hello,  Mr.  JafFry.  This  is  Penny.  Dress  and  come 
down  to  the  office  quickly.  We  are  in  serious 
trouble." 

Twenty  minutes  later  Uncle  Martin  was  sitting 
with  the  two  young  men  in  the  office  of  Remington 
and  Evans.  When  they  explained  the  situation  to 
him  his  dry  little  face  screwed  up. 

"  Well,  at  least  Genevieve  will  be  all  right,"  he 
muttered.  "  E.  Eliot  will  take  care  of  her.  But, 
boys — boys,"  he  squeezed  his  hands  and  rocked  in 
misery,  "  the  devil  of  it  is  that  I  gave  Doolittle  the 
money  in  a  check  and  then  went  and  got  another 
check  from  the  Owners'  Protective  Association  and 
took  the  peak  load  off  myself,  and  Doolittle  was 
with  me  when  I  got  the  P.  A.  check.  We've 
simply  got  to  protect  him.  And,  of  course,  what 
he  knows,  Noonan  knows.  We  can't  go  tearing 
up  Jack  here,  calling  police  and  raising  the 
town ! " 

George  Remington  rose. 

"  Then  I've  got  to  let  my  wife  lie  in  some  dive 
with  that  unspeakable  Turk  and  that  Mike  the  Goat 
while  you  men  dicker  with  the  scoundrels  who  com- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  283 

mitted  this  crime !  "  he  said.  "  My  God,  every 
minute  is  precious !  We  must  act.  Let  me  call  the 
chief  of  police  and  the  sheriff " 

"  All  dear  friends  of  Noonan's,"  Penny  quietly 
reminded  him.  "  They  probably  have  the  same  tip 
about  what  is  on  as  you  and  Uncle  Martin  have! 
Calm  down,  George !  First,  let  me  go  out  and  learn 
when  Noonan  and  Doolittle  are  coming  home! 
When  we  know  that,  we  can " 

"  Penny,  I  can't  wait.  I  must  act  now.  I  must 
denounce  the  whole  damnable  plot  to  the  people 
of  this  country.  I  must  not  rest  one  second 
longer  in  silence  as  an  accessory.  I  shall 
denounce " 

'"'  Yes,  George,  you  shall  denounce,"  exclaimed  his 
partner.  "  But  just  whom — yourself,  that  you  did 
not  warn  Miss  Eliot  all  day  yesterday !  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Remington,  "  first  of  all,  myself  as 
a  coward !  " 

"All  right.  Next,  then,  your  Uncle  Martin 
Jaffry,  who  was  earnestly  trying  to  help  you  in  the 
only  way  he  knew  how  to  help !  Why,  George,  that 
would 


284  THE  STURDY  OAK 

y  "  That  would  be  the  least  I  could  do  to  let  the 
people  see " 

"  To  let  the  people  see  that  Mrs.  Brewster- 
Smith  and  all  your  social  friends  in  this  town 
\  are  associated  with  Mike  the  Goat  and  his 
gang " 

Before  Evans  could  finish,  his  partner  stopped 
him. 

"Yes,  yes — the  whole  damned  system  of  greed! 
The  rich  greed  and  the  poor  greed — our  criminal 
classes  plotting  to  keep  justice  from  the  decent  law- 
abiding  people  of  the  place,  who  are  led  like  sheep 
to  the  slaughter.  What  did  the  owners  pay  that 
money  for?  Not  for  the  dirty  job  that  was  turned 
— not  primarily.  But  to  elect  me,  because  they 
thought  I  would  not  enforce  the  factory  laws  and 
the  housing  laws  and  would  protect  them  in  their 
larceny!  That  money  Uncle  Martin  collected  was 
my  price — my  price !  " 

He  was  standing  before  his  friends,  rigid  and 

white  in  rage.    Neither  man  answered  him. 
I 

"  And  because  the  moral  sense  of  the  community 

was  in  the  hearts  and  heads  of  the  women  of  the 


THE  STURDY  OAK  285 

community,"  he  went  on,  "  those  who  are  uphold 
ing  the  immoral  compact  between  business  and  poli 
tics  had  to  attack  the  womanhood  of  the  town — and 
Genevieve's  peril  is  my  share  in  the  shame.  By 
God,  I'm  through!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BY  MARY  AUSTIN 

CLOSE  on  Young  Remington's  groan  of  utter  dis 
illusionment  came  a  sound  from  the  street,  formless 
and  clumsy,  but  brought  to  a  sharp  climax  with  the 
crash  of  breaking  glass. 

Even  through  the  closed  window  which  Penfield 
Evans  hastily  threw  up,  there  was  an  obvious  quality 
to  the  disturbance  which  revealed  its  character  even 
before  they  had  grasped  its  import. 

The  street  was  still  full  of  morning  shadows,  with 
here  and  there  a  dancing  glimmer  on  the  cobbles 
of  the  still  level  sun,  caught  on  swinging  dinner  pails 
as  the  loosely  assorted  crowd  drifted  toward  shop 
and  factory. 

In  many  of  the  windows  half-drawn  blinds 
marked  where  spruce  window  trimmers  added  last 
touches  to  masterpieces  created  overnight,  but  di 
rectly  opposite  nothing  screened  the  offense  of  the 


THE  STURDY  OAK  287 

Voiceless  Speech,  which  continued  to  display  its 
accusing  questions  to  the  passer-by. 

Clean  through  the  plate-glass  front  a  stone  had 
crashed,  leaving  a  heap  of  shining  splinters,  on  either 
side  of  which  a  score  of  men  and  boys  loosely 
clustered,  while  further  down  a  ripple  of  disturb 
ance  marked  where  the  thrower  of  the  stone 
had  just  vanished  into  some  recognized  port  of 
safety. 

It  was  a  clumsy  crowd,  half-hearted,  moved 
chiefly  by  a  cruel  delight  in  destruction  for  its  own 
sake,  and  giving  voice  at  intervals  to  coarse  com 
ment  of  which  the  wittiest  penetrated  through  a 
stream  of  profanity,  like  one  of  those  same  splinters 
of  glass,  to  the  consciousness  of  at  least  two  of  the 
three  men  who  hung  listening  in  the  window  above : 

"  To  hell  with  the suffragists !  " 

At  the  same  moment  another  stone  hurled  through 
the  break  sent  the  Voiceless  Speech  toppling;  it  lay 
crumpled  in  a  pathetic  feminine  sort  of  heap,  subject 
to  ribald  laughter,  but  Penny  Evans'  involuntary 
cry  of  protest  was  cut  off  by  his  partner's  hand  on 
his  shoulder. 


288  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"They're  Noonan's  men,  Penny;  it's  a  put-up 
job/' 

George  had  marked  some  of  the  crowd  at  the 
meetings  Noonan  had  arranged  for  him,  and  the 
last  touch  to  the  perfunctory  character  of  the  dis 
turbance  was  added  by  the  leisurely  stroll  of  the 
policeman  turning  in  at  the  head  of  the  street.  Be 
fore  he  reached  the  crowd  it  had  redissolved  into 
the  rapidly  filling  thoroughfare. 

"  It's  no  use,  Penny.  Our  women  have  seen  the 
light  and  beaten  us  to  it;  we've  got  to  go  with  them 
or  with  Noonan  and  his— Mike  the  Goat !  " 

Recollection  of  his  wife's  plight  cut  him  like  a 
knife.  "  The  Brewster-Smith  women  have  got  to 
choose  for  themselves !  "  He  felt  about  for  his 
hat  like  a  man  blind  with  purpose. 

The  street  sweeper  was  taking  up  the  fragments 
of  the  shattered  windows  half  an  hour  later,  when 
Martin  Jaffry  found  himself  going  rather  aimlessly 
along  Main  Street  with  a  feeling  that  the  bottom 
had  recently  dropped  out  of  things — a  sensation 
which,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  was  greatly  aug 
mented  by  the  fact  that  he  hadn't  yet  breakfasted. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  289 

He  had  remained  behind  the  two  younger  men 
to  get  into  communication  with  Betty  Sheridan  and 
ask  her  to  stay  close  to  the  telephone  in  case  Miss 
Eliot  should  again  attempt  to  get  into  touch  with 
her.  He  lingered  still,  dreading  to  go  into  any  of 
the  places  where  he  was  known  lest  he  should  some 
how  be  led  to  commit  himself  embarrassingly  on 
the  subject  of  his  nephew's  candidacy. 

His  middle-aged  jauntiness  considerably  awry, 
he  moved  slowly  down  the  heedless  street,  sub 
ject  to  the  most  gloomy  reflections.  Like  most 
men,  Martin  Jaffry  had  always  been  dimly  aware 
that  the  fabric  of  society  is  held  together  by  a  sys 
tem  of  mutual  weaknesses  and  condonings,  but  he 
had  always  thought  of  himself  and  his  own  family 
as  moving  freely  in  the  interstices,  peculiarly  ex 
empt,  under  Providence,  from  strain.  Now  here 
they  were,  in  such  a  position  that  the  first  stumbling 
foot  might  tighten  them  all  into  inextricable  scandal. 

It  is  true  that  Penny,  at  the  last  moment,  had  pre 
vailed  on  George  to  put  off  the  relief  of  his  feelings 
by  public  repudiation  of  his  political  connections, 
at  least  until  after  a  conference  with  the  police. 


290  THE  STURDY  OAK 

And  to  George's  fear  that  the  newspapers  would 
get  the  news  from  the  police  before  he  had  had  a 
chance  to  repudiate,  he  had  countered  with  a  sug 
gestion,  drawn  from  an  item  in  the  private  history 
of  the  chief — known  to  him  through  his  father's 
business — which  he  felt  certain  would  quicken  the 
chief's  sense  of  the  propriety  of  keeping  George's 
predicament  from  the  press. 

"  My  God !  "  said  George  in  amazement,  and 
Martin  Jaff ry  had  responded  fervently  with  "  O 
Lord!" 

Not  because  it  shocked  him  to  think  that  there 
might  be  indiscretions  known  to  the  lawyer  of  a 
chief  of  police  which  the  chief  might  not  wish 
known  to  the  world,  but  because,  with  the  addition 
of  this  new  coil  to  his  nephew's  affairs,  he  was  sud 
denly  struck  with  the  possibility  of  still  other  coils 
in  any  one  of  which  the  saving  element  of  indis 
cretion  might  be  wanting. 

Suppose  they  should  come  upon  one,  just  one 
impregnable  honesty,  one  soul  whom  the  fear  of  ex 
posure  left  unshaken.  On  such  a  possibility  rested 
the  exemption  of  the  Jafrry-Remingtons. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  291 

It  was  the  reference  to  E.  Eliot  in  his  instruc 
tions  to  Betty  which  had  awakened  in  Jaffry's  mind 
the  disquieting  reflection  that  just  here  might  prove 
such  an  impregnability.  They  probably  wouldn't 
be  able  to  "  do  anything  "  with  E.  Eliot  simply  be 
cause  she  herself  had  never  done  anything  she  was 
afraid  to  go  to  the  public  about.  To  do  him  justice, 
it  never  occurred  to  him  that  in  the  case  of  a  lady 
it  was  easily  possible  to  invent  something  which 
would  be  made  to  answer  in  place  of  an  indiscretion. 

Probably  that  was  Martin  Jaffry's  own  impreg 
nability — that  he  wouldn't  have  lied  about  a  lady 
to  save  himself.  What  he  did  conclude  was  that  it 
was  just  this  unbending  quality  of  women,  this 
failure  to  provide  the  saving  weakness,  which  un 
fitted  them  for  political  life. 

He  shuddered,  seeing  the  whole  fabric  of  politics 
fall  in  ruins  around  an  electorate  composed  largely 
of  E.  Eliots,  feeling  himself  stripped  of  everything 
that  had  so  far  distinguished  him  from  the  Noonans 
and  the  Doolittles. 

Out  of  his  sudden  need  for  reinstatement  with 
himself,  he  raised  in  his  mind  the  vision  of  woman 


292  THE  STURDY  OAK 

as  the  men  of  Martin  Jaffry's  world  conceived  her 
— a  tender,  enveloping  medium  in  which  male  com 
placency,  unchecked  by  any  breath  of  criticism, 
reaches  its  perfect  flower — the  flower  whose  fruit, 
eaten  in  secret  and  afar  from  the  soil  which  nour 
ishes  it,  is  graft,  corruption  and  civic  incompetence. 

Instinctively  his  need  directed  him  toward  the 
Remington  place. 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  was  glad  to  see  him.  Be 
tween  George's  hurried  ,deParture  and  Jaffry's  re 
turn  several  of  the  specters  that  haunt  such  women's 
lives  looked  boldly  in  at  the  window. 

There  was  the  specter  of  scandal,  as  it  touched 
the  Remingtons,  touching  that  dearest  purchase  of 
femininity,  social  standing;  there  was  the  specter 
of  poverty,  which  threatened  from  the  exposure  of 
the  source  of  her  income  and  the  enforcement  of 
the  law;  nearer  and  quite  as  poignant,  was  the 
specter  of  an  ignominious  retreat  from  the  comfort 
of  George  Remington's  house  to  her  former  lodg 
ing,  which  she  was  shrewd  enough  to  realize  would 
follow  close  on  the  return  of  her  cousin's  wife. 

All  morning  she  had  beaten  off  the  invisible  host 


THE  STURDY  OAK  293 

with  that  courage — worthy  of  a  better  cause — with 
which  women  of  her  class  confront  the  assaults  of 
reality;  and  the  sight  of  Martin  Jaffry  coming  up 
the  broad  front  walk  met  her  like  a  warm  waft  of 
security.  She  flung  open  the  door  and  met  him 
with  just  that  mixture  of  deference  and  relief  which 
the  situation  demanded. 

She  was  terribly  anxious  about  poor  Genevieve, 
of  course,  but  not  so  anxious  that  she  couldn't  per 
ceive  how  Genevieve's  poor  uncle  had  suffered. 

"  What,  no  breakfast !  Oh,  you  poor  man !  Come 
right  out  into  the  dining-room." 

Mrs.  Brewster-Smith  might  have  her  limitations, 
but  she  was  entirely  aware  of  the  appeasing  effect 
of  an  open  fire  and  a  spread  cloth  even  when  no 
meal  is  in  sight;  she  was  adept  in  the  art  of  en 
veloping  tenderness  and  the  extent  to  which  it  may 
be  augmented  by  the  pleasing  aroma  of  ham  and 
eggs  and  the  coffee  which  she  made  herself.  And 
oh,  those  poor  women,  what  disaster  they  were 
bringing  on  themselves  by  their  prying  into  things 
that  were  better  left  to  more  competent  minds,  and 
what  pain  to  other  minds ! 


294  THE  STURDY  OAK 

So  selfish,  but  of  course  they  didn't  realize. 
Really  she  hoped  it  would  be  a  lesson  to  Genevieve. 
The  dear  girl  was  so  changed  that  she  didn't  see  how 
she  was  going  to  go  on  living  with  her;  though,  of 
course,  she  would  like  to  stand  by  dear  George — and 
a  woman  did  so  appreciate  a  home ! 

At  this  point  the  enveloping  tenderness  of  Mrs. 
Brewster-Smith  concentrated  in  her  fine  eyes,  just 
brushed  the  heart  of  her  listener  as  with  a  passing 
wing,  hovered  a  moment,  and  dropped  demurely  to 
the  tablecloth. 

In  the  meantime  two  sorely  perplexed  citizens 
were  grappling  with  the  problem  of  the  disappear 
ance  of  two  highly  respectable  women  from  their 
homes  under  circumstances  calculated  to  give  the 
greatest  anxiety  to  faithful  "  party "  men.  It 
hadn't  needed  Penny's  professional  acquaintance 
with  Chief  Buckley  to  impress  the  need  of  secrecy 
on  that  official's  soul.  "  Squeal "  on  Noonan  or 
Mike  the  Goat?  Not  if  he  knew  himself.  Natu 
rally  Mr.  Remington  must  have  his  wife,  but  at  the 
same  time  it  was  important  to  proceed  regularly. 

"  And  the  day  before  election,  too ! "  mourned 


THE  STURDY  OAK  295 

the  chief.  "  Lord,  what  a  mess !  But  keep  cool, 
Mr.  Remington;  this  will  come  out  all  right!  " 

After  half  an  hour  of  such  ineptitudes,  Penfield 
Evans  found  it  necessary  to  withdraw  his  partner 
from  the  vicinity  of  the  police  before  his  impatience 
reached  the  homicidal  pitch. 

"  Buckley's  no  such  fool  as  he  sounds,"  Penny 
advised.  "  He  probably  has  a  pretty  good  idea 
where  the  women  are  hidden,  but  you  must  give 
him  time  to  tip  off  Mike  for  a  getaway." 

But  the  suggestion  proved  ill  chosen,  at  least  so 
far  as  it  involved  a  hope  of  keeping  George  from 
the  newspapers.  Shocked  to  the  core  of  his  young 
egotism  as  he  had  been,  Remington  was  yet  not 
so  shocked  that  the  need  of  expression  was  not 
stronger  in  him  than  any  more  distant  consider 
ation. 

"  Getaway !  "  he  frothed.  "  Getaway !  While  a 
woman  like  my  wife — "  But  the  bare  idea  was 
too  much  for  him. 

"  They  may  get  away,  but  they'll  not  get  off — 
not  a  damned  one  of  them — of  us"  he  corrected 
himself,  and  with  face  working  the  popular  young 


296  THE  STURDY  OAK 

candidate  for  district  attorney  set  off  almost  on  a 
run  for  the  office  of  the  Sentinel. 

Reflecting  that  if  his  friend  was  bent  upon  official 
suicide,  there  was  still  no  reason  for  his  being  a 
witness  to  it,  Penny  turned  aside  into  a  telephone 
booth  and  called  up  Betty  Sheridan.  He  heard 
her  jump  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  the  rising 
breath  of  relief  running  into  his  name. 

"  O-o-oh,  Penny !  Yes,  about  twenty  minutes 
ago.  Genevieve  is  with  her.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  I'm 


sure." 


Her  voice  sounded  strong  and  confident. 

"  They're  in  a  house  about  an  hour  from  the 
factory,"  she  went  on,  "  among  some  trees.  I'm 
sure  she  said  trees.  We  were  cut  off.  No,  I  couldn't 
get  her  again.  .  .  .  Yes  .  .  .  it's  a  party  line. 
In  the  Redfield  district.  Oh,  Penny,  do  you  think 
they'll  do  her  any  harm  ?  " 

It  was,  no  doubt,  the  length  of  time  it  took  to 
assure  Miss  Sheridan  on  this  point  that  prevented 
Evans  from  getting  around  to  the  Sentinel,  whose 
editor  was  at  that  moment  giving  an  excellent  ex 
hibition  of  indecision  between  his  obligation  as  a 


THE  STURDY  OAK  297 

journalist  and  his  role  of  leading  citizen  in  a  town 
where  he  met  his  subscribers  at  dinner. 

It  was  good  stuff — oh,  it  was  good !  What  head 
lines  ! 

PROMINENT  SOCIETY  WOMEN 
KIDNAPPED 

CANDIDATE  REMINGTON  REPUDIATES  PARTY! 

It  was  good  for  a  double  evening  edition.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  was  Norton,  one  of  his  largest 
advertisers.  There  was  also  the  rival  city  of  Ham 
ilton,  which  was  even  now  basely  attempting  to 
win  away  from  Whitewater  a  recently  offered 
Carnegie  library  on  the  ground  of  its  superior 
fitness. 

Finally  there  was  the  party. 

The  Sentinel  had  always  been  a  sound  party 
organ.  But  what  a  scoop!  And  suppose  it  were 
possible  to  save  the  party  at  the  expense  of  its 
worst  element?  Suppose  they  raised  the  cry  of  re 
form  and  brought  Remington  in  on  a  full  tide  of 
public  indignation? 

Would  Mike  stand  the  gaff?     If  it  were  made 


298  THE  STURDY  OAK 

worth  his  while.  But  what  about  Noonan  and  Doo- 
little?  So  the  editorial  mind  shuttled  to  and  fro 
amid  the  confused  outpourings  of  the  amazed 
young  candidate,  while  with  eyes  bright  and  con 
sidering  as  a  rat's  the  editor  followed  Remington 
in  his  pacings  up  and  down  the  dusty,  littered 
room. 

Completely  occupied  with  his  own  reactions, 
George's  repudiation  swept  on  in  an  angry,  rapid 
stream  which,  as  it  spent  itself,  began  to  give  place 
to  the  benumbing  consciousness  of  a  divided 
hearing. 

Until  this  moment  Remington  had  had  a  pleasant 
sense  of  the  press  as  a  fine  instrument  upon  which 
he  had  played  with  increasing  mastery,  a  trumpet 
upon  which,  as  his  mind  filled  with  commendable 
purposes,  he  could  blow  a  very  pretty  tune, — a  noble 
tune  with  now  and  then  a  graceful  flourish  accepta 
ble  to  the  public  ear.  Now  as  he  talked  he  began  to 
be  aware  of  flatness,  of  squeaking  keys.  .  .  . 

"  Naturally,  Mr.  Remington,  I'll  have  to  take 
this  up  with  the  business  management  ..."  dry- 
lipped,  the  tune  sputtered  out. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  299 

At  this  juncture  the  born  journalist  awaked  again 
in  the  editorial  breast  at  the  entrance  of  Penfield 
Evans  with  his  new  item  of  Betty's  interrupted 
message. 

Two  women  shut  up  in  a  mysterious  house  among 
the  trees!  Oh,  hot  stuff,  indeed! 

Under  it  George  rallied,  recovered  a  little  of  the 
candidate's  manner. 

"  Understand,"  he  insisted.  "  This  goes  in  even 
if  I  have  to  pay  for  it  at  advertising  rates." 

A  swift  pencil  raced  across  the  paper  as 
Remington's  partner  swept  him  off  again  to  the 
police. 

Betty's  call  had  come  a  few  minutes  before  ten. 
What  had  happened  was  very  simple. 

The  two  women  had  been  given  breakfast,  for 
which  their  hands  had  been  momentarily  freed. 
When  the  bonds  had  been  tied  again  it  had  been 
easy  for  E.  Eliot  to  hold  her  hands  in  such  a  posi 
tion  that  she  was  left,  when  their  keeper  withdrew, 
with  a  little  freedom  of  movement 

By  backing  up  to  the  knob  she  had  been  able  to 
open  a  door  into  an  adjoining  room,  in  which  she 


3oo  THE  STURDY  OAK 

had  been  able  to  make  out  a  telephone  on  a  stand 
against  the  wall. 

This  room  also  had  locked  windows  and  closed 
shutters,  but  her  quick  wit  had  enabled  her  to  make 
use  of  that  telephone. 

Shouldering  the  receiver  out  of  the  hook,  she 
had  called  Betty's  number,  and,  with  Genevieve 
stooping  to  listen  at  the  dangling  receiver,  had  called 
out  two  or  three  broken  sentences. 

Guarded  as  their  voices  had  been,  however,  some 
one  in  the  house  had  been  attracted  by  them,  and 
the  wire  had  been  cut  at  some  point  outside  the  room. 
E.  Eliot  and  Genevieve  came  to  this  conclusion  after 
having  lost  Betty  and  failed  to  raise  any  answer  to 
their  repeated  calls.  Somebody  came  and  looked 
in  at  them  through  the  half -open  door,  and,  seeing 
them  still  bound,  had  gone  away  again  with  a  short, 
contemptuous  laugh. 

"  No  matter,"  said  E.  Eliot.  "  Betty  heard  us, 
and  the  central  office  will  be  able  to  trace  the  call/' 

It  was  because  she  could  depend  on  Betty's  in 
telligence,  she  went  on  to  say,  that  she  had  called 
her  instead  of  the  Remington  house — for  suppose 


THE  STURDY  OAK  301 

that  fool  Brewster-Smith  woman  had  come  to  the 
telephone ! 

She  and  Genevieve  occupied  themselves  with  their 
bonds,  fumbling  back  to  back  for  a  while,  until 
Genevieve  had  a  brilliant  idea.  Kneeling,  she  bit 
at  the  cords  which  held  Miss  Eliot's  wrists  until 
they  began  to  give. 

What  Betty  had  done  intelligently  was  nothing 
to  what  she  had  done  without  meaning  it.  She 
had  been  unkind  to  Pudge.  Young  Sheridan  was 
in  a  condition  which,  according  to  his  own  way  of 
looking  at  it,  demanded  the  utmost  kindness. 

Following  a  too  free  indulgence  in  marrons  glaces 
he  had  been  relegated  to  a  diet  that  reduced  him 
to  the  extremity  of  desperation. 

Not  only  had  he  been  forbidden  to  eat  sweets, 
but  while  his  soul  still  longed  for  its  accustomed 
solace,  his  stomach  refused  it,  and  he  was  unable 
to  eat  a  box  of  candied  fruit  which  he  had  with  the 
greatest  ingenuity  secured. 

And  that  was  the  occasion  Betty  took — herself 
full  of  nervous  starts  and  mysterious  recourse  to 


302  THE  STURDY  OAK 

the  telephone  behind  locked  doors — to  remind  him 
cruelly  that  he  was  getting  flabby  from  staying  too 
much  in  the  house  and  to  recommend  a  long  walk 
for  his  good. 

It  was  plain  that  she  would  stick  at  nothing  to 
get  her  brother  out  of  the  way,  and  Pudge  was  cut 
to  the  heart. 

Oh,  well,  he  would  go  for  a  walk,  from  which  he 
would  probably  be  brought  home  a  limp  and  help 
less  cripple.  Come  to  think  of  it,  if  he  once  got 
started  to  walk  he  was  not  sure  he  would  ever  turn 
back;  he  would  just  walk  on  and  on  into  a  kinder 
environment  than  this. 

After  all,  it  is  impossible  to  walk  in  that  fateful 
way  in  a  crowded  city  thoroughfare.  Besides,  one 
passes  so  many  confectioners  with  their  mingled 
temptation  and  disgust.  Pudge  rode  on  the  trolley 
as  far  as  the  city  limits.  Here  there  was  softer 
ground  underfoot  and  a  hint  of  melancholy  in  the 
fields.  A  flock  of  crows  going  over  gave  the  appro 
priate  note. 

Off  there  to  the  left,  set  back  from  the  road 
among  dark,  crowding  trees,  stood  a  mysterious 


THE  STURDY  OAK  303 

house.  Pudge  always  insisted  that  he  had  known 
it  for  mysterious  at  the  first  glance.  It  had  a  man 
sard  roof  and  shutters  of  a  sickly  green,  all  closed; 
there  was  not  a  sign  of  life  about,  but  smoke  issued 
from  one  of  the  chimneys. 

Here  was  an  item  potent  to  raise  the  sleuth  that 
slumbers  in  every  boy,  even  in  such  well-cushioned 
bosoms  as  Pudge  Sheridan's. 

He  paused  in  his  walk,  fell  into  an  elaborately 
careless  slouch,  and  tacked  across  the  open  country 
toward  the  back  of  the  house.  Here  he  discovered 
a  considerable  yard  fenced  with  high  boards  that 
had  once  been  painted  the  same  sickly  green  as  the 
shutters,  and  a  great  buckeye  tree  just  outside, 
spreading  its  branches  over  the  corner  furthest  from 
the  house. 

Toward  this  post  of  observation  he  was  drifting 
with  that  fine  assumption  of  aimlessness  which  can 
be  managed  on  occasion  by  almost  any  boy,  when 
he  was  arrested  by  a  slight  but  unmistakable  shak 
ing  of  one  of  the  shutters,  as  though  some  one  from 
within  were  trying  the  fastenings. 

The  shaking  stopped  after  a  moment,  and  then, 


304  THE  STURDY  OAK 

one  after  another,  the  slats  of  the  double  leaves  were 
seen  to  turn  and  close  as  though  for  a  secret  survey 
of  the  field.  After  a  moment  or  two  this  perform 
ance  was  repeated  at  the  next  window  on  the  left, 
and  finally  at  a  third. 

Here  the  shaking  was  resumed  after  the  survey, 
and  ended  with  the  shutter  opening  with  a  snap  and 
being  caught  back  from  within  and  held  cautiously 
on  the  crack.  Pudge  kicked  clods  in  his  path  and 
was  pretentiously  occupied  with  a  dead  beetle  which 
he  had  picked  up. 

All  at  once  something  flickered  across  the  ground 
at  his  feet,  swung  two  or  three  times,  touched  his 
shoe,  traveled  up  the  length  of  his  trousers  and 
rested  on  his  breast.  How  that  bosom  leaped  to 
the  adventure! 

He  fished  hurriedly  in  his  pocket  and  brought  up 
a  small  round  mirror.  It  had  still  attached  to  its 
rim  a  bit  of  the  ribbon  by  which  it  had  been  fas 
tened  to  his  sister's  shopping  bag,  from  which,  if 
the  truth  must  be  told,  he  had  surreptitiously  de 
tached  it. 

Pretending  to  consult  it,  as  though  it  were  some 


THE  STURDY  OAK  305 

sort  of  pocket  oracle,  Pudge  flashed  back,  and  pres 
ently  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  bright  fleck 
of  light  travel  across  the  shutter.  Immediately 
there  was  a  responsive  flicker  from  the  window: 
one,  two,  three,  he  counted,  and  flashed  back:  one, 
two,  three. 

Pudge's  whole  being  was  suffused  with  delicious 
thrills.  He  wished  now  he  had  obeyed  that  oft- 
experienced  presentiment  and  learned  the  Morse 
code;  it  was  a  thing  no  man  destined  for  adventure 
should  be  without.  This  wordless  interchange  went 
on  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  a  hand,  a  woman's 
hand — O  fair,  imprisoned  ladies  of  all  time! — ap 
peared  cautiously  at  the  open  shutter,  waved  and 
pointed. 

It  pointed  toward  the  buckeye  tree.  Pudge 
threw  a  stone  in  that  direction  and  sauntered  after 
it,  pitching  and  throwing.  Once  at  the  corner,  after 
a  suitable  exhibition  of  casualness,  he  climbed  until 
he  found  himself  higher  than  the  fence,  facing  the 
house. 

While  he  was  thus  occupied,  things  had  been 
happening  there.  The  shutter  had  been  thrown  back 


306  THE  STURDY  OAK 

and  a  woman  was  climbing  down  by  the  help  of  a 
window  ledge  below  and  a  pair  of  knotted  window 
curtains. 

Another  woman  prepared  to  follow  her,  gesticu 
lating  forcibly  to  the  other  not  to  wait,  but  to  run. 
Run  she  did,  but  it  was  not  until  Pudge,  lying  full 
length  on  the  buckeye  bough,  reached  her  a  hand 
that  he  discovered  her  to  be  his  sister's  friend, 
Genevieve  Remington. 

In  the  interval  of  her  scrambling  up  by  the  aid  of 
the  bent  bough  and  such  help  as  he  could  give  her, 
they  had  neglected  to  observe  the  other  woman. 
Now,  as  Mrs.  Remington's  heels  drummed  on  the 
outside  of  the  fence,  Pudge  was  aware  of  some  com 
motion  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  and  saw  Miss 
Eliot  running  toward  him,  crying:  "Run,  run!" 
while  two  men  pursued  her.  She  made  a  desperate 
jump  toward  the  tree,  caught  the  branch,  hung  for 
a  moment,  lost  her  hold,  and  brought  Pudge  igno- 
miniously  down  in  a  heap  beside  her. 

If  Miss  Eliot  had  not  contradicted  it,  Pudge 
would  have  believed  to  his  dying  day  that  bullets 
hurtled  through  the  air;  it  was  so  necessary  to  the 


THE  STURDY  OAR  307 

dramatic  character  of  the  adventure  that  there 
should  be  bullets.  He  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  his  fall  in  time  to  hear  Miss  Eliot  say :  "  Better 
not  touch  me,  Mike;  if  there's  so  much  as  a 
bruise  \\hcn  my  friends  find  me,  you'll  get  sent  up 

for  it/ 
Her  cool,  even  tones  cut  the  man's  stream  of 
profanity  like  a  knife.    He  came  threateningly  close 
to  her,  but  refrained  from  laying  hands  on  either 
of  them. 

Meantime  his  companion  drew  himself  up  to  the 
top  of  the  fence  for  a  look  over,  and  dropped  back 
with  a  gesture  intended  to  be  reassuring.  Pudge 
rose  gloriously  to  the  occasion. 

"The  others  have  gone  back  to  call  the  police." 
he  announced.  Mike  spat  out  an  oath  at  him,  but 
it  was  easv  to  see  that  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that 
this  might  not  be  the  ease.  The  possibility  that  it 
might  be.  chocked  a  movement  to  pursue  the  fleeing 
denevieve.  Miss  I 'Hot  caught  their  indecision  with 
a  flying  shaft. 

"  Mrs.  George  Remington,"  she  said.  "  will  prob 
ably  be  in  communication  with  her  friends  very 


308  THE  STURDY  OAK 

shortly.  And  between  his  wife  and  his  old  and 
dear  friend  Mike  it  won't  take  George  Remington 
long  to  choose." 

This  was  so  obvious  that  it  left  the  men  nothing 
to  say.  They  fell  in  surlily  on  either  side  of  her,  and 
without  any  show  of  resistance  she  walked  calmly 
back  toward  the  house.  Pudge  lingered,  uncertain 
of  his  cue. 

"  Beat  it,  you  putty- face !  "  Mike  snarled  at  him, 
showing  a  yellow  fang.  "If  you  ain't  off  the  prem 
ises  in  about  two  shakes,  you'll  get  what's  comin' 
to  you.  See  ?  " 

Pudge  walked  with  as  much  dignity  as  he  could 
muster  in  the  direction  of  the  public  road.  He 
could  see  nothing  of  Mrs.  Remington  in  either  direc 
tion;  now  and  then  a  private  motor  whizzed  by, 
but  there  was  no  other  house  near  enough  to  sug 
gest  a  possibility  of  calling  for  help. 

He  concealed  himself  in  a  group  of  black  locusts 
and  waited.  In  about  half  an  hour  he  heard  a  car 
coming  from  the  house  with  the  mansard  roof,  and 
saw  that  it  held  three  occupants,  two  men  and  a 
woman.  The  men  he  recognized,  and  he  was  cer- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  309 

tain  that  the  woman,  though  she  was  well  bundled 
up,  was  not  E.  Eliot. 

The  motor  turned  away  from  the  town  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  opposite  direction.  Pudge  surmised 
that  Mike  was  making  his  getaway.  He  waited 
another  half  hour  and  began  to  be  assailed  by  the 
pangs  of  hunger.  The  house  gave  no  sign;  even  the 
smoke  from  the  chimney  stopped. 

He  was  sure  Miss  Eliot  was  still  there;  imagina 
tion  pictured  her  weltering  in  her  own  gore.  Be 
tween  fear  and  curiosity  and  the  saving  hope  that 
there  might  be  food  of  some  sort  in  the  house, 
Pudge  left  his  hiding  place  and  began  a  stealthy 
approach. 

He  came  to  the  low  stoop  and  crept  up  to  the 
closed  front  door.  Hovering  between  fear  and 
courage,  he  knocked.  But  there  was  no  response. 
With  growing  boldness  he  tried  the  door.  It  was 
locked. 

The  rear  door  also  was  bolted;  but,  creeping  on, 
he  found  a  high  side  window  that  the  keepers  of 
this  prison  in  their  hasty  flight  had  forgotten  to 
close. 


3io  THE  STURDY  OAK 

With  the  aid  of  an  empty  rain  barrei,  which  he 
overturned  and  rolled  into  position,  Pudge  scram 
bled  with  much  hard  breathing  through  the  window 
and  dropped  into  the  kitchen.  Here  he  listened; 
his  ears  could  discern  no  sound.  On  tiptoe  he  crept 
through  the  rooms  of  the  first  floor — but  came  upon 
neither  furtive  enemy  nor  imprisoned  friend.  Up 
the  narrow  stairway  he  crept — peeped  into  three 
bedrooms — and  finally  opening  the  door  of  what 
was  evidently  a  storeroom,  he  found  the  object  of 
his  search. 

E.  Eliot  sat  in  an  old  splint-bottomed  chair — 
gagged,  arms  tied  behind  her  and  to  the  chair's 
back,  and  her  ankles  tied  to  the  chair's  legs.  In  a 
moment  Pudge  had  the  knotted  towel  out  of  her 
mouth,  and  had  cut  her  bonds.  But  quick  though 
Pudge  was,  to  her  he  seemed  intolerably  slow ;  just 
then  E.  Eliot  was  thinking  of  only  one  thing. 

This  was  the  final  afternoon  of  the  campaign  and 
she  was  away  out  here,  far  from  all  the  great  things 
that  might  be  going  on. 

She  gave  a  single  stretch  of  her  cramped  muscles 
as  she  rose. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  311 

"  I  know  you — you're  Betty  Sheridan's  brother 
—thanks,"  she  said  briskly.  "  What  time  is  it?" 

Pudge  drew  out  his  most  esteemed  possession,  a 
watch  which  kept  perfect  time — except  when  it  re 
fused  to  keep  any  time  at  all. 

"  Three  o'clock,"  he  announced. 

"  Then  our  last  demonstration  is  under  way,  and 
when  I  tell  my  story — "  E.  Eliot  interrupted  her 
self.  "  Come  on— let's  catch  the  trolley !  " 

With  Pudge  panting  after  her,  she  hurried  down 
stairs,  unbolted  the  door,  and,  running  lightly  on 
the  balls  of  her  feet,  sped  in  the  direction  of  the 
street  car  line. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
BY  LEROY  SCOTT 

IN  the  meantime,  concern  and  suspense  and  irrup- 
tive  wrath  had  their  chief  abode  in  the  inner  room 
of  Remington  and  Evans.  George  had  received  a 
request,  through  Penny  Evans,  from  the  chief  of 
police  to  remain  in  his  office,  where  he  could  be 
reached  instantly  if  information  concerning  Gene- 
vieve  were  received,  and  where  his  help  could  in 
stantly  be  secured  were  it  required ;  and  Penny  had 
enlarged  that  request  to  the  magnitude  of  a  com 
mand  and  had  stood  by  to  see  that  it  was  obeyed, 
and  himself  to  give  assistance. 

George  had  recognized  the  sense  of  the  order, 
but  he  rebelled  at  the  enforced  inactivity.  Where 
was  Genevieve? — why  wasn't  he  out  doing  some 
thing  for  her?  He  strode  about  the  office,  fuming, 
sick  with  the  suspense  and  inaction  of  his  role. 

But  Genevieve  was  not  his  unbroken  concern. 
31* 


THE  STURDY  OAK  313 

He  was  still  afire  with  the  high  resentment  which 
a  few  hours  earlier  had  made  him  go  striding  into 
the  office  of  the  Sentinel.  Fragments  of  his  state 
ment  to  the  editor  leaped  into  his  mind;  and  as  he 
strode  up  and  down  he  repeated  phrases  silently, 
but  with  fierce  emphasis  of  the  soul. 

Now  and  again  he  paused  at  his  window  and  looked 
down  into  Main  Street.  Below  him  was  a  crowd 
that  was  growing  in  size  and  disorder :  the  last  after 
noon  of  any  campaign  in  Whitewater  was  exciting 
enough;  much  more  so  were  the  final  hours  of  this 
campaign  that  marked  the  first  entrance  of  women 
into  politics  in  Whitewater  on  a  scale  and  with  an 
organized  energy  that  might  affect  the  outcome  of 
the  morrow's  voting. 

Across  the  way,  Mrs.  Herrington,  the  fighting 
blood  of  five  generations  of  patriots  roused  in  her, 
had  reinstated  the  Voiceless  Speech  within  the  plate- 
glass  window  broken  by  the  stones  of  that  morning 
and  was  herself  operating  it;  and,  armed  with  ban 
ners,  groups  of  women  from  the  Woman's  Club, 
the  Municipal  League  and  the  Suffrage  Society 
were  marching  up  and  down  the  street  sidewalks. 


3  H  THE  STURDY  OAK 

It  was  their  final  demonstration,  their  last  chance 
to  assert  the  demands  of  good  citizenship — and  it 
had  attracted  hundreds  of  curious  men,  vote-own 
ers,  belonging  to  what,  in  such  periods  of  political 
struggle,  are  referred  to  on  platforms  as  "  our  bet 
ter  element." 

Also  drifting  into  Main  Street  were  groups  of 
voters  of  less  prepossessing  aspect — Noonan's  men, 
George  recognized  them  to  be.  These  jeered  and 
jostled  the  marching  women  and  hooted  the  remarks 
of  the  Voiceless  Speech — but  the  women,  disregard 
ing  insults  and  attacks,  went  on  with  their  silent 
campaigning.  The  feeling  was  high — and  George 
could  see,  as  Noonan's  men  kept  drifting  into  Main 
Street,  that  feeling  was  growing  higher. 

Looking  down,  George  felt  an  angered  exultation. 
Well,  his  statement  in  the  Sentinel,  due  upon  the 
street  almost  any  moment,  would  answer  all  these 
and  give  them  something  to  think  about! — a  state 
ment  which  would  make  an  even  greater  stir  than 
the  declaration  which  he  had  issued  those  many 
weeks  ago,  when,  fresh  from  his  honeymoon,  he 
had  begun  his  campaign  for  the  district  attorney- 


C  <U 
ID  0, 
W>  CO 


o    w 

' 


bJD 

C    -O 
•^     <u 

If 


ll 

W) 


THE  STURDY  OAK  315 

ship.  These  people  below  certainly  had  a  jolt  com 
ing  to  them ! 

George's  impatient  and  glowering  meditations — 
the  hour  was  then  near  four — were  broken  in  upon 
by  several  interruptions,  which  came  on  him  in  quick 
succession,  as  though  detonated  by  brief -interval 
time-fuses.  The  first  was  the  entrance  of  that 
straw-haired  misspeller  of  his  letters  who  had  suc 
ceeded  Betty  Sheridan  as  guardian  of  the  outer 
office. 

"  Mr.  Doolittle  is  here,"  she  announced.  "  He 
says  he  wants  to  see  you." 

"  You  tell  Mr.  Doolittle  7  don't  want  to  see  him! " 
commanded  the  irritated  George. 

But  Mr.  Benjamin  Doolittle  was  already  seeing 
his  candidate.  As  political  boss  of  his  party,  he  had 
little  regard  for  such  a  formality  as  being  announced 
to  any  person  on  whom  he  might  call — so  he  had 
walked  through  the  open  door. 

"  Well,  what  d'you  want,  Doolittle? "  George  de 
manded  aggressively. 

Mr.  Doolittle's  face  wore  that  look  of  bland  solici 
tude,  that  unobtrusive  partnership  in  the  misfortune 


3i6  THE  STURDY  OAK 

of  others,  which  had  made  him  such  an  admirable 
and  prosperous  officiant  at  the  last  rites  of  residents 
of  Whitewater. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  ask  you,  George — "  he  was  be 
ginning  in  his  soft,  lily-of-the-valley  voice,  when  the 
telephone  on  George's  desk  started  ringing.  George 
turned  and  reached  for  it,  to  find  that  Penny  had 
already  picked  up  the  instrument. 

"  I'll  answer  it,  George.  .  .  .  Hello  ...  Mr. 
Remington  is  here,  but  is  busy ;  I'll  speak  for  him — 
I'm  Mr.  Evans.  .  .  .  What — it's  you!  Where  are 
you?  .  .  .  Stay  where  you  are;  I'll  come  right 
over  for  you  in  my  car." 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  demanded  George. 

"  Genevieve,"  Penny  said  rapidly,  seizing  his  hat, 
"  and  I'm  going " 

"  So  am  I !  "  exclaimed  George. 

"Not  till  we've  had  a  little  understanding," 
sharply  put  in  Doolittle,  blocking  his  way. 

"  Stay  here,  George,"  his  partner  snapped  out — 
"  she's  perfectly  safe — just  a  little  out  of  breath — 
telephoned  from  a  drug  store  over  in  the  Red- 
field  district.  I'll  have  her  back  here  in  fifteen 


THE  STURDY  OAK  317 

minutes."  And  out  Penny  dashed,  slamming  the 
door. 

But  perhaps  it  was  the  straw-haired  successor  of 
Betty  Sheridan  who  really  prevented  George  from 
plunging  after  his  partner. 

"  You  ordered  the  Sentinel  sent  up  as  soon  as  it 
was  out,"  she  said.  "  Here  are  six  copies." 

George  seized  the  ink-damp  papers,  and  as  the 
straw-haired  one  walked  out  in  rubber-heeled  silence 
he  turned  savagely  upon  his  campaign  manager. 

"Well,  Doolittle?"  he  demanded. 

"  I  just  want  to  ask  you,  George " 

George  exploded.  "  Oh,  you  just  want  to  ask 
me!  Well,  everything  you  want  to  ask  me  is  an 
swered  in  that  paper.  Read  it!  " 

Doolittle  took  the  copy  of  the  Sentinel  which  was 
thrust  into  his  hands.  George  watched  him  with 
triumphant  grimness,  awaiting  the  effect  of  the 
bomb  about  to  explode  in  the  other's  face.  Mr. 
Doolittle  unfolded  the  Sentinel — looked  it  slowly 
through — then  raised  his  eyes  to  George.  His  face 
seemed  somewhat  puzzled,  but  otherwise  it  was 
overspread  with  that  sympathetic  concern  which,  as 


3i8  THE  STURDY  OAK 

much  as  his  hearse  and  his  folding-chairs,  was  a 
part  of  his  professional  equipment. 

"  Why,  George.  I  don't  just  get  what  you're  driv 
ing  at." 

Forgetting  that  he  was  holding  several  copies  of 
the  Sentinel,  George  dropped  them  all  upon  the 
floor  and  seized  the  paper  from  Mr.  Doolittle.  He 
glanced  swiftly  over  the  first  page — and  experienced 
the  highest  voltage  shock  of  his  young  public  career. 
Feverishly  he  skimmed  the  remaining  pages.  But  of 
all  that  he  had  poured  out  in  the  office  of  the  Senti 
nel,  not  one  word  was  in  print. 

Automatically  clutching  the  paper  in  a  hand  that 
fell  to  his  side,  he  stared  blankly  at  his  campaign 
manager.  Mr.  Doolittle  gazed  back  with  his  air  of 
sympathetic  concern,  bewildered  questioning  in  his 
eyes.  And  for  a  space,  despite  the  increasing  up 
roar  down  in  the  street,  there  was  a  most  perfect 
silence  in  the  inner  office  of  Remington  and 
Evans. 

Before  either  of  the  two  men  could  speak,  the 
door  was  violently  flung  open  and  Martin  Jaffry 
appeared.  His  clothing  was  disarranged,  his  man- 


THE  STURDY  OAK  319 

ner  agitated — in  striking  contrast  to  the  dapper  and 
composed  appearance  usual  to  that  middle-aged  little 
gentleman. 

"  George,"  he  panted,  "  heard  anything  about 
Gene  vie  ve?  " 

"  She's  safe.  Penny's  got  charge  of  her  by  this 
time." 

His  answer  was  almost  mechanical. 

"  Thank  God !  "  Uncle  Martin  collapsed  in  one 
of  the  office  chairs.  "  Mind — if  sit  here  minute — 
get  my  breath." 

George  did  not  reply,  for  he  had  not  heard.  He 
was  gazing  steadily  at  Mr.  Doolittle;  some  great, 
but  as  yet  shapeless,  force  was  surging  up  dazingly 
within  him.  But  he  somehow  held  himself  in 
control. 

"  Well,  Doolittle,"  he  demanded,  "  you  said  you 
came  to  ask  something." 

Mr.  Doolittle's  manner  was  still  propitiatingly 
bland.  "  I'll  mention  something  else  first,  George, 
if  you  don't  mind.  You  just  remarked  I'd  find 
your  answer  in  the  Sentinel.  There  must  'a'  been 
some  little  slip-up  somewhere.  So  I  guess  I  better 


320  THE  STURDY  OAK 

mention  first  that  the  Sentinel  has  arranged  to  stand 
ready  to  get  out  an  extra." 

"An  extra!    What  for?" 

"  Principally,  George,  I  reckon  to  print  those 
answers  you  just  spoke  of." 

George  still  kept  that  mounting  something  under 

his  control.    "  Answers  to  what  ?  " 

•* 

"  Why,  George,"  the  other  replied  softly,  persua 
sively.  "  I  guess  we'd  better  have  a  little  chat — as 
man  to  man — about  politics.  Meaning  no  offense, 
George,  stalling  is  all  right  in  politics — but  this  time 
you've  carried  this  stalling  act  a  little  too  far.  As 
the  result  of  your  tactics,  George,  why  here's  all 
this  disorder  in  our  streets — and  the  afternoon  be 
fore  election.  If  you'd  only  really  tried  to  stop 
these  messing  women " 

"  I  didn't  try  to  stop  them  by  kidnapping  them ! " 
burst  from  George — and  Uncle  Martin,  his  breath 
recovered,  now  sat  up,  clutching  his  homespun 
cap. 

"  Kidnapping  women  ?  "  queried  the  bland,  bewil 
dered  voice  of  the  party  boss.  "  I  say,  George,  I 
don't  know  what  you're  talking  about." 


THE  STURDY  OAK  321 

"Why,  you — "  But  George  caught  himself. 
"  Speak  it  out,  Doolittle — what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Since  you  ask  it  so  frankly,  George,  I'll  try  to 
put  it  plain:  You  been  going  along  handing  out 
high-sounding  generalities.  There's  nothing  better 
and  safer  than  generalities — usually.  But  this  ain't 
no  usual  case,  George.  These  women,  stirring 
everything  up,  have  got  the  solid  interests  so  unset 
tled  that  they  don't  know  where  they're  at — or 
where  you're  at.  And  a  lot  of  boys  in  the  organiza 
tion  feel  the  same  way.  What  the  crisis  needs, 
George,  is  a  plain  statement  of  your  intentions  as 
district  attorney,  which  we  can  get  into  that  Sen 
tinel  extra  and  which  will  reassure  the  public — and 
the  organization." 

"  A  plain  statement  ?  "  There  was  a  grim  set  to 
George's  jaw. 

"  Oh,  it  needn't  go  into  too  many  details.  Just 
what  you  might  call  a  ringing  declaration  about  this 
being  the  greatest  era  of  prosperity  Whitewater  has 
ever  known,  and  that  you  conceive  it  to  be  the  duty 
of  your  administration  to  protect  and  stimulate  this 
prosperity.  The  people  will  understand,  and  the 


322  THE  STURDY  OAK 

organization  will  understand.  I  guess  you  get  what 
I  mean,  George." 

"  Yes,  I  get  what  you  mean !  "  exploded  George, 
his  fist  crashing  upon  the  table.  "  You  mean  you 
want  me  to  be  a  complacent  accessory  to  all  the  legal 
evasions  that  you  and  your  political  gang  and  the 
rich  bunch  behind  you  may  want  to  get  away  with ! 
You  want  me  to  be  a  crook  in  office!  By  God, 
Doolittle " 

"  Shut  up,  Remington/'  snapped  the  political  boss, 
his  soft  manner  now  vanished,  his  whole  aspect  now 
grimly  menacing.  "  I  know  the  rest  of  what  you're 
going  to  say.  I  was  pretty  certain  what  it  'ud  be 
before  I  came  here,  but  I  had  to  know  for  sure. 
Well,  I  know  now,  all  right !  " 

His  lank  jaws  snapped  again. 

"  Since  you  are  not  going  to  represent  the  people 
that  put  you  up,  I  demand  your  written  withdrawal 
as  candidate  for  the  district  attorney's  office." 

"  And  I  refuse  to  give  it !  "  cried  George.  "  I 
was  nominated  by  a  convention,  not  by  you.  And  I 
don't  believe  the  party  is  as  crooked  as  you — any 
how  I'm  going  to  give  the  decent  members  of  the 


THE  STURDY  OAK  323 

party  a  chance  to  vote  decently !  And  you  can't  re 
move  me  from  the  ballot,  either,  for  the  ballot  is 
already  printed  and " 

"  That'll  do  you  no " 

"  I  thought  some  time  ago  I  was  through  with 
this  political  mess,"  George  drove  on.  "  But,  Doo- 
little,  damn  you,  I've  just  begun  to  get  in  it !  And 
I'm  going  to  see  it  through  to  the  finish !  " 

Suddenly  a  thin  little  figure  thrust  itself  between 
the  bellicose  pair  and  began  shaking  George's  hand. 
It  was  Martin  Jaffry. 

"  George — I  guess  I'm  my  share  of  an  old  scoun 
drel — and  a  trimmer — but  hearing  some  one  stand 
up  and  talk  man's  talk — "  He  broke  off  to  shake 
George's  hand  again.  "  I  thought  you  were  the 
king  of  boobs — but,  boy,  I'm  with  you  to  wherever 
you  want  to  go — if  my  money  will  last  that  far!  " 

"  Keep  out  of  this,  Jaffry,"  roughly  growled 
Doolittle.  "  It's  too  late  for  your  dough  to  help 
this  young  pup.  Remington,  we  may  not  take  you 
off  the  ballot,  but  the  organization  kin  send  out 
word  to  the  boys " 

"  To  knife  me !    Of  course,  I  expect  that !    All 


324  THE  STURDY  OAK 

right — go  to  it!  But  I'm  on  the  ballot — you  can't 
deprive  people  of  the  chance  of  voting  for  me.  And 
I  shall  announce  myself  an  independent  and  shall 
run  as  one !  " 

"  We  may  not  be  able  to  elect  our  own  nominee,'* 
harshly  continued  Doolittle,  "  but  we  kin  send  out 
word  to  back  the  Democratic  candidate.  Miller 
ain't  much,  but,  at  least,  he's  a  soft  man.  And  that 
Sentinel  extra  is  going  to  say  that  a  feeling  has 
spread  among  the  respectable  element  that  it  has  lost 
confidence  in  you,  and  is  going  to  say  that  promi 
nent  party  members  feel  the  party  has  made  a  mis 
take  in  ever  putting  you  up.  So  run,  damn  you — 
run  as  a  Democrat,  a  Republican,  an  Independent — 
but  how  are  you  going  to  git  it  across  to  the  public 
in  a  way  to  do  yourself  any  good — without  backing? 
How  are  you  going  to  git  it  across  to  the  public  ?  " 

His  last  words,  flung  out  with  overmastering 
fury,  brought  George  up  short,  and  he  saw  this. 
Doolittle's  wrath  had  mounted  to  that  pitch  which 
should  never  be  reached  by  the  resentment  of  a  prac 
tical  politician;  it  had  attained  such  force  that  it 
drove  him  on  to  taunt  his  man. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  325 

"  How  are  you  going  to  git  it  before  the  public?  " 
he  again  demanded,  eyes  agleam  with  triumphant 
rancor — "  with  us  shutting  you  off  and  hammering 
you  on  one  side? — and  them  damned  messy  women 
across  the  street  hammering  you  from  the  other 
side?  Oh,  it's  a  grand  chance  you  have — one  little 
old  grand  chance!  Especially  with  those  dear 
damned  females  loving  you  like  they  do !  Jest  take 
a  look  at  what  the  bunch  over  there  are  doing  to 
you!" 

Doolittle  followed  his  own  taunting  suggestion; 
and  George,  too,  glanced  through  his  window  across 
the  crowded  street  into  the  shattered  window  whence 
issued  the  Voiceless  Speech.  In  that  jagged  frame 
in  the  raw  November  air  still  stood  Mrs.  Harvey 
Herrington,  turning  the  giant  leaves  of  her  sound 
less  oratory.  The  heckling  request  which  then 
struck  George's  eyes  began :  "  Will  Candidate  Rem 
ington  answer " 

George  Remington  read  no  more.  His  already 
tense  figure  suddenly  stiffened;  he  caught  a  sharp 
breath.  Then,  without  a  word  to  the  two  men  with 
him,  he  seized  his  hat  and  dashed  from  his  office. 


326  THE  STURDY  OAK 

The  street  was  even  more  a  turbulent  human  sea, 
with  violently  twisting  eddies,  than  had  appeared 
from  George's  windows.  It  seemed  that  every  mem 
ber  of  the  organizations  whom  Mrs.  Herrington 
(and  also  Betty  Sheridan,  and  later  E.  Eliot,  and, 
at  the  last,  Genevieve)  had  brought  into  this  fight, 
were  now  downtown  for  the  supreme  effort.  And 
it  seemed  that  there  were  now  more  of  the  so-called 
"better  citizens."  Certainly  there  were  more  of 
Noonan's  men,  and  these  were  still  elbowing  and 
jostling,  and  making  little  mass  rushes — yet 
otherwise  holding  themselves  ominously  in 
control. 

Into  this  milling  assemblage  George  flung  him 
self,  so  dominated  by  the  fiery  urge  within  him  that 
he  did  not  hear  Genevieve  call  to  him  from  Penny's 
car,  which  just  then  swung  around  the  corner  and 
came  to  a  sharp  stop  on  the  skirts  of  the  crowd. 
George  shouldered  his  way  irresistibly  through  this 
mass ;  the  methods  of  his  football  days  when  he  had 
been  famed  as  a  line-plunging  back  instinctively  r< 
turned — and,  all  the  fine  chivalry  forgotten  whicl 
had  given  to  his  initial  statement  to  the  voters  oJ 


THE  STURDY  OAK  327 

Whitewater  so  noble  a  sound,  he  battered  aside 
many  of  those  "  fairest  flowers  of  our  civili 
zation,  to  protect  whom  it  is  man's  duty  and 
inspiration." 

His  lunging  progress  followed  by  curses  and 
startled  cries  of  feminine  indignation,  he  at  length 
emerged  upon  the  opposite  sidewalk,  and,  breathless 
and  disheveled,  he  burst  into  the  headquarters  of 
the  Voiceless  Speech. 

Some  half-dozen  of  Mrs.  Herrington's  assistants 
cried  out  at  his  abrupt  entrance.  Mrs.  Herrington, 
forward  beside  the  speech,  turned  quickly  about. 

"  Mr.  Remington,  you  here !  "  she  cried  in  amaze 
ment  as  he  strode  toward  her.  "  What — what  do 
you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want — I  want — "  gasped  George.  But  instead 
of  finishing  his  sentence  he  elbowed  Mrs.  Herring- 
ton  out  of  the  way,  shoved  past  her,  and  stepped 
forth  in  front  of  the  Voiceless  Speech.  There, 
standing  in  the  frame  of  jagged  plate-glass,  upon 
what  was  equivalent  to  a  platform  raised  above 
the  crowd,  he  sent  forth  a  speech  which  had  a 
voice. 


328  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen !  "  he  called,  raising  an 
imperative  hand.  The  uproar  subsided  to  numerous 
exclamations,  then  to  surprised  silence;  even 
Noonan's  men  checked  their  disorder  at  this  appear 
ance  of  their  party's  candidate. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  and  this  Voiceful  Speech 
was  loud, — "  I'm  here  to  answer  the  questions  of 
this  contrivance  behind  me.  But  first  let  me  tell 
you  that  though  I'm  on  the  ballot  as  the  candidate 
of  the  Republican  party,  I  do  not  want  the  backing 
of  the  Republican  machine.  I'm  running  as  an 
Independent,  and  I  shall  act  as  an  Independent. 

"  Here  are  my  answers : 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  enforce  all  the 
factory  laws. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  enforce  the  laws 
governing  housing  conditions — particularly  housing 
conditions  in  the  factory  district. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  enforce  the  laws 
governing  child  labor  and  the  laws  governing  the 
labor  of  women. 

"  And  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  enforce  every 
other  law,  and  shall  try  to  secure  the  passage  of 


THE  STURDY  OAK  329 

further  laws,  which  will  make  Whitewater  a  clean, 
forward-looking  city,  whose  first  consideration  shall 
be  the  welfare  of  all. 

"And,  ladies  and  gentlemen — "  he  shouted,  for 
the  hushed  voices  had  begun  to  rise — "  I  wish  I 
could  address  you  all  as  fellow-voters! — I  want  to 
tell  you  that  I  take  back  that  foolish  statement  I 
made  at  the  opening  of  the  campaign. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  stand  for,  and  shall 
fight  for,  equal  suffrage! 

"  And  I  want  to  tell  you  that  what  has  brought 
this  change  is  what  some  of  the  women  of  White 
water  have  shown  me — and  also  some  of  the  things 
our  men  politicians  have  done — our  Doolittles,  our 
Noonans " 

But  George's  speech  terminated  right  there.  Noise 
there  had  been  before;  now  there  burst  out  an  up 
roar,  and  there  came  an  artillery  attack  of  eggs, 
vegetables,  stones  and  bricks.  One  of  the  bricks 
struck  George  on  the  shoulder  and  drove  him  stag 
gering  back  against  the  Voiceless  Speech,  sending 
that  instrument  of  silent  argument  crashing  to  the 
floor.  Regaining  his  balance,  George  started  furi- 


330  THE  STURDY  OAK 

ously  back  for  the  window;  but  Mrs.  Herrington 
caught  his  arm. 

"  Let  me  go !  "  he  called,  trying  to  shake  her  off. 

But  she  held  on.  "  Don't — you've  said  enough !  " 
she  cried,  and  pulled  him  toward  the  rear  of  the 
room.  "Look!" 

Through  the  window  was  coming  a  heavier  fire 
of  impromptu  grenades  that  rolled,  spent,  at  their 
feet.  But  what  they  saw  without  was  far  more 
stirring  and  important.  Noonan's  men  in  the 
crowd,  their  hoodlumism  now  unleashed,  were 
bowling  over  the  people  about  them;  but  these 
really  constituted  Noonan's  outposts  and  advance 
guards. 

From  out  of  two  side  streets,  though  George 
and  Mrs.  Herrington  could  not  see  their  first  ap 
pearance  upon  the  scene,  Noonan's  real  army  now 
came  charging  into  Main  Street,  as  per  that  gentle 
man's  grim  instructions  to  "  show  them  messin' 
women  what  it  means  to  mess  in  politics."  Hun 
dreds  of  Whitewater's  women  were  flung  about, 
many  sent  sprawling  to  the  pavement,  and  some  hun 
dreds  of  the  city's  most  respectable  voters,  caught 


THE  STURDY  OAK  331 

unawares,  were  hustled  about  and  knocked  down 
by  the  same  ruthless  drive. 

"  My  God !  "  cried  George,  impulsively  starting 
forward.  "  The  damned  brutes !  " 

But  Mrs.  Herrington  still  held  his  arm.  "  Come 
on — they're  making  a  drive  for  this  office !  "  breath 
lessly  cried  the  quick-minded  lady.  "You  can  do 
no  good  here.  Out  the  rear  way — my  car's  waiting 
in  the  back  street." 

Still  clutching  his  sleeve,  Mrs.  Herrington  opened 
a  door  and  ran  across  the  back  yard  of  McMoni- 
gal's  building  in  a  manner  which  indicated  that  that 
lady  had  not  spent  her  college  years  (and  similarly 
spent  the  years  since  then  (propped  among  em 
broidered  cushions  consuming  marshmallows  and 
fudge. 

The  lot  crossed,  she  hurried  through  a  little  gro 
cery  and  thence  into  the  street.  Here  they  ran  into 
a  party  that,  seeing  the  riot  on  Main  Street  and  the 
drive  upon  the  window  from  which  George  had 
spoken,  had  rushed  up  reinforcements  from  the  rear 
— a  party  consisting  of  Penny,  E.  Eliot,  Betty  Sheri 
dan  and  Genevieve. 


332  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"  Genevieve !  "  cried  George,  and  caught  her  into 
his  arms. 

"  Oh,  George/5  she  choked.  "  I— I  heard  it  all— 
and  it — it  was  simply  wonderful !  " 

"George,"  cried  Betty  Sheridan,  "I  always 
knew,  if  you  got  the  right  kind  of  a  jolt,  you'd  be — 
you'd  be  what  you  are !  " 

E.  Eliot  gripped  his  hand  in  a  clasp  almost  as 
strong  as  George's  arm.  "  Mr.  Remington,  if  I 
were  a  man,  I'd  like  to  have  the  same  sort  of  stuff 


in  me." 


"  George,  you  old  roughneck — "  began  Penny. 

"  George,"  interrupted  Genevieve,  still  chokingly, 
her  protective,  wifely  instinct  now  at  the  fore,  "  I 
saw  you  hit,  and  we're  going  to  take  you  straight 
home " 

"Cut  it  all  out,"  interrupted  the  cultured  Mrs. 
Herrington.  "  This  isn't  Mr.  Remington's  honey 
moon — nor  his  college  reunion — nor  the  annual  con 
vention  of  his  maiden  aunts.  This  is  Mr.  Reming 
ton's  campaign,  and  I'm  his  new  campaign  manager. 
And  his  campaign  manager  says  he's  not  going  away 
out  to  his  home  on  Sheridan  Road.  His  campaign 


THE  STURDY  OAK  333 

headquarters  are  going  to  be  in  the  center  of 
town,  at  the  Commercial  Hotel,  where  he  can  be 
reached — for  there's  quick  work  ahead  of  us. 
Come  on." 

Five  minutes  later  they  were  all  in  the  Commer 
cial  Hotel's  best  suite. 

"  Now,  to  business,  Mr.  Remington,"  briskly 
began  Mrs.  Herrington.  "  Of  course,  that  was  a 
good  speech.  But  why,  in  heaven's  name,  didn't 
you  come  out  with  it  before  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  really  didn't  know  where  I  stood  until 
today,"  confessed  George,  "  and  today  I  tried  to 
come  out  with  it." 

And  George  went  on  to  recount  his  experience 
with  the  Sentinel — his  scene  with  Doolittle — and 
Doolittle's  plan  for  an  extra  of  the  Sentinel,  which 
was  doubtless  then  in  preparation. 

"  So  they've  got  the  Sentinel  muzzled,  have  they 
— and  are  going  to  get  out  an  extra  repudiating 
you,"  Mrs.  Herrington  repeated.  There  came  a 
flash  into  her  quick,  dark  eyes.  "  I  want  our  candi- 
Adate  to  stay  right  here — rest  up — get  his  thoughts 
in  order.  There  are  a  lot  of  things  to  be  done.  I'll 


334  THE  STURDY  OAK 

be  back  in  an  hour,  Mr.  Remington.     The  rest  of 
you  come  along — you,  too,  Mrs.  Remington." 

Mrs.  Herrington  did  not  altogether  keep  her  word 
in  the  matter  of  time.  It  was  two  hours  before  she 
was  back.  To  George  she  handed  a  bundle  of 
papers,  remarking :  "  Thought  you'd  like  to  see  that 
Sentinel  extra." 

"  I  suppose  Doolittle  has  done  his  worst,"  he  re 
marked  grimly.  He  glanced  at  the  paper.  His  face 
went  loose  with  bewilderment  at  what  he  saw — 
headlines,  big  black  headlines,  bigger  and  blacker 
than  he  had  ever  before  seen  in  the  politically  and 
typographically  conservative  Sentinel.  He  read 
through  a  few  lines  of  print,  then  looked  up. 

"  Why,  it's  all  here !  "  he  gasped.  "  The  kidnap 
ping  of  Miss  Eliot  and  Genevieve  by  Noonan's  men 
— my  break  with  Doolittle,  my  denunciation  of  the 
party's  methods,  my  coming  out  as  an  independent 
candidate — that  riot  on  Main  Street !  How  on  earth 
did  that  ever  get  into  the  Sentinel?" 

"  Some  straight  talk,  and  quick  talk,  and  the  ex 
ercise  of  a  little  of  the  art  of  pressure  they  say  you 
men  exercise,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 


THE  STURDY  OAK  335 

"  I  telephoned  Mr.  Ledbetter  of  the  Sentinel  ad 
vising  him  to  hold  the  extra  Mr.  Doolittle  had 
threatened  until  he  heard  from  Mr.  Wesley  Norton, 
proprietor  of  the  Norton  Dry  Goods  Store.  You 
know,  Mr.  Norton  is  the  Sentinel's  largest  single 
advertiser  and  president  of  the  Whitewater  Busi 
ness  Men's  Club. 

"  Then  a  committee  of  us  women  called  on  Mr. 
Norton  and  told  him  that  we'd  organize  the  women 
of  the  city  and  would  carry  on  a  boycott  campaign 
against  his  store — we  didn't  really  put  it  quite  as 
crudely  as  that — unless  he'd  force  the  Sentinel  to 
stop  Mr.  Doolittle's  lying  extra  and  print  your  state 
ment. 

"  Mr.  Norton  gave  in,  and  telephoned  the  Sentinel 
that  if  it  didn't  do  as  he  said  he'd  cancel  his  adver 
tising  contract.  Then,  to  make  sure,  we  got  hold 
of  Mr.  Jaffry,  called  on  Mr.  Ledbetter,  who  called 
in  the  business  manager — and  your  Uncle  Martin 
told  them  that  unless  they  printed  the  truth,  and 
every  bit  of  it,  and  printed  it  at  once,  he  was  going 
to  put  up  the  money  to  start  an  opposition  paper  that 
would  print  the  truth.  That  explains  the  extra." 


336  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"Well,"  ejaculated  George,  still  staring,  "you 
certainly  are  a  wonder  as  a  campaign  mana 
ger!" 

"  Oh,  I  only  did  my  fraction.  That  Miss  Eliot 
did  as  much  as  I — she's  a  find — she's  going  to  be 
one  of  Whitewater's  really  big  women.  And  Betty 
Sheridan,  you  can't  guess  how  Betty's  worked — and 
your  wife,  Mr.  Remington,  she's  turning  out  to  be 
a  marvel ! 

"  But  that's  not  all,"  Mrs.  Herrington  continued 
rapidly.  "We  bought  ten  thousand  copies  of  that 
extra  for  ourselves — your  uncle  paid  for  them — 
and  we're  going  to  distribute  them  in  every  home 
in  town.  When  the  best  element  in  Whitewater 
read  how  the  women  were  trampled  down  by 
Noonan's  mob — well,  they'll  know  how  to  vote! 
Mr.  Noonan  will  never  guess  how  much  he  has 
helped  us." 

"  You  seem  to  have  left  nothing  for  me  to  do," 
said  George. 

"  You'll  find  out  there'll  be  all  you'll  want,"  re 
plied  the  brisk  Mrs.  Herrington.  "  We're  organiz 
ing  meetings — one  in  every  hall  in  the  city,  one  on 


THE  STURDY  OAK  337 

almost  every  other  street  corner,  and  we're  going 
to  rush  you  from  one  to  the  next — most  of  the 
night — and  there'll  be  no  letup  for  you  tomorrow, 
even  if  it  is  election  day.  Yes,  you'll  find  there'll 
be  plenty  to  do !  " 

The  next  twenty-four  hours  were  the  busiest 
that  George  Remington  had  ever  known  in  his 
twenty-six  years. 

But  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  evening  it  was  over — 
the  tumult  and  the  shouting  and  the  congratu 
lations — and  all  were  gone  save  only  Martin 
Jaffry;  and  District- Attorney-Elect  Remington 
sat  in  his  hotel  suite  alone  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family. 

He  was  still  dazed  by  what  had  happened  to  him 
— at  the  part  he  had  unexpectedly  played — dazed  by 
the  intense  but  well-ordered  activity  of  the  women : 
their  management  of  his  whirlwind  tour  of  the  city; 
their  organization  of  parades  with  amazing  swift 
ness;  their  rapid  and  complete  house-to-house  can 
vass — the  work  of  Mrs.  Herrington,  of  Betty,  of 
that  Miss  Eliot,  of  hundreds  of  women — and  espe 
cially  of  Genevieve. 


338  THE  STURDY  OAK 

He  marveled  especially  at  Genevieve  because  he 
had  never  thought  of  Genevieve  as  doing  such  things. 
But  she  had  done  them — he  felt  that  somehow  she 
was  a  different  Genevieve:  he  didn't  know  what 
the  difference  was — he  was  in  too  much  of  a 
whirl  for  analysis — but  he  had  an  undefined  sense 
of  aliveness,  of  a  spirited,  joyous  initiative  in 
her. 

She  and  all  the  rest  seemed  so  strange  as  to  be 
unbelievable.  And  yet,  she — and  all  of  it — 
true!  .  .  . 

From  dramatic  events  and  intangible  qualities  of 
the  spirit,  his  consciousness  shifted  to  material 
things — his  immediate  surroundings.  Not  till  this 
blessed  moment  of  relaxation  did  he  become  aware 
of  the  discomforts  of  this  suite — nor  did  Genevieve 
fully  appreciate  the  flamboyantly  flowered  maroon 
wall-paper  and  the  jig-saw  furniture. 

"  George,"  she  sighed,  "  now  that  you're  not 
needed  down  here,  can't  we  go  home  ?  " 

"  Home !  "  The  word  came  out  half  snort,  half 
growl — hardly  the  tone  becoming  one  whose  tri 
umph  was  so  exultingly  fresh.  With  a  jar  he  had 


THE  STURDY  OAK  339 

come  back  to  a  present  which  he  fully  understood. 
"  Damn  home!  I  haven't  any  home!  " 

Genevieve  stared.  Uncle  Martin  snickered,  for 
Uncle  Martin  had  the  gift  of  understanding. 

"  You  mean  those  flowers  of  womanhood  whom 
chivalrous  man " 

"  Shut  up,"  commanded  George.  He  thought  for 
a  brief  space;  then  his  jaw  set.  "Excuse  me  a 
moment." 

Drawing  hotel  stationery  toward  him,  he  scrib 
bled  rapidly  and  then  sealed  and  addressed  what  he 
had  written. 

"  Uncle  Martin,  your  car's  outside  doing  nothing ; 
would  you  mind  going  on  ahead  and  giving  this 
little  note  to  Cousin  Alys  Brewster-Smith,  and  then 
staying  around  and  having  a  little  supper  with 
Genevieve  and  me  ?  We'll  be  out  soon,  but  there  are 
a  few  things  I  want  to  talk  over  with  Genevieve 
alone  before  we  come." 

Uncle  Martin  would  oblige.  But  when  he  had 
gone,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  of  pressing  im 
portance  that  George  had  to  communicate  to  Gene 
vieve.  Nor  half  an  hour  later,  when  he  led  his 


340  THE  STURDY  OAK 

bride  of  four  mcnths  up  to  their  home,  had  he  de 
livered  himself  of  anything  which  seemed  to  require 
privacy. 

As  they  stepped  up  on  the  porch,  softly  lighted 
by  a  frosted  bulb  in  its  ceiling,  Cousin  Emelene, 
her  cat  under  her  arm,  came  out  of  the  front  door 
and  hurried  past  them,  without  speech. 

"  Why,  Cousin  Emelene !  "  George  called  after 
her. 

She  paused  and  half  turned. 

"  You — you — "  she  half  choked  upon  expletives 
that  would  not  come  forth.  "  The  man  will  come  for 
my  trunks  in  the  morning."  Thrusting  a  handker 
chief  to  her  face,  she  hurried  away. 

"  George,  what  can  have  happened  to  her?  "  cried 
the  amazed  Genevieve. 

But  George  was  saved  answering  her  just  then. 
Another  figure  had  emerged  from  the  front  door — a 
rather  largish  figure,  all  in  black — her  left  hand 
clutching  the  right  hand  of  a  child,  aged,  possibly, 
five.  And  this  figure  did  not  cower  and  hurry  away. 
This  figure  halted,  and  glowered. 

"  George   Remington,"   exclaimed   Cousin   Alys, 


THE  STURDY  OAK  341 

"  after  your  invitation — you — you  apostate  to  chiv 
alry  !  That  outrageous  letter !  But  if  I  am  leaving 
your  home,  thank  God  I'm  leaving  it  for  a  home  of 
my  own !  Come  on,  Martin !  " 

With  that  she  stalked  away,  dragging  the  sleepy 
Eleanor. 

Not  till  then  did  George  and  Genevieve  become 
aware  that  Uncle  Martin  was  before  them,  having 
until  now  been  obscured  by  Mrs.  Brewster-Smith's 
outraged  amplitude.  His  arms  were  loaded  with 
coats,  obviously  feminine. 

"  Uncle  Martin !  "  exclaimed  George. 

"  George,"  gulped  his  uncle — "  George — "  And 
then  he  gained  control  of  a  dazed  sort  of  speech. 
"  When  I  gave  her  that  letter  I  didn't  know  it  was 
a  letter  of  eviction.  And  the  way  she  broke  down 
before  me — a  woman,  you  know — I — I — well, 
George,  it's  my  home  she's  going  to." 

"  You  don't  mean " 

"  Yes,  George,  that's  just  what  I  mean.  Though, 
of  course,  I'm  taking  her  back  now  to  Mrs.  Gallup's 
boarding-house  until — until — good-night,  George ; 
good-night,  Genevieve." 


342  THE  STURDY  OAK 

The  little  man  went  staggering  down  the  walk 
with  his  burden  of  wraps;  and  after  a  minute  there 
came  the  sound  of  his  six-cylinder  roadster  buzzing 
away  into  the  darkness. 

"  I  didn't  tell  'em  they  had  to  go  tonight,"  said 
George  doggedly.  "  But  I  did  remark  that  even  if 
every  woman  had  a  right  to  a  home,  every  woman 
didn't  have  the  right  to  make  my  home  her  home. 
Anyhow,"  his  tone  becoming  softer,  "  I've  at 
last  got  a  home  of  my  own.  Our  own,"  he  cor 
rected. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms.  "  And,  sweetheart — it's, 
a  better  home  than  when  we  first  came  to  it,  for 
now  I've  got  more  sense.  Now  it  is  a  home  in  which 
each  of  us  has  the  right  to  think  and  be  what  we 
please." 

At  just  about  this  same  hour  just  about  this  same 
scene  was  being  enacted  upon  another  front  porch 
iq  Whitewater — there  being  the  slight  difference 
that  this  second  porch  was  not  softly  illuminated  by 
any  frosted  globule  of  incandescence.  Up  the  three 
steps  leading  to  this  second  porch  Mr.  Penfield 


THE  STURDY  OAK  343 

Evans  had  that  moment  escorted  Miss  Elizabeth 
Sheridan. 

"  Good-night,  Penny,"  she  said. 

He  caught  her  by  her  two  shoulders. 

"  See  here,  Betty — the  last  twenty- four  hours 
have  been  mighty  busy  hours — too  busy 
even  to  talk  about  ourselves.  But  now — see 
here,  you're  not  going  to  get  away  with 
any  rough  work  like  that.  Come  across,  now. 
Will  you?" 

"Will  I  what?" 

"  Say,  how  long  do  you  think  you're  a  paid-up 
subscriber  to  this  little  daily  speech  of  mine  ?  .  .  . 
Well,  if  I've  got  to  hand  you  another  copy,  here 
goes.  You  promised  me,  on  your  word  of  honor, 
if  George  swung  around  for  suffrage,  you'd  swing 
around  for  me.  Well,  George  has  come  around. 
Not  that  I  had  much  to  do  with  it — but  he  surely 
did  come  around!  Now,  the  point  is,  Miss  Betty 
Sheridan,  are  you  a  woman  of  your  promise — are 
you  going  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  try  to  put  it  that  way,  demanding 
your  pound  of  flesh " 


344  THE  STURDY  OAK 

"One  hundred  and  twenty  pounds,"  corrected 
Penny. 

"  I'll  say  that,  of  course,  I  don't  love  you,  but  I 
guess  a  promise  is  a  promise — and — and — "  And 
suddenly  a  pair  of  strong  young  arms  were  flung 
about  the  neck  of  Mr.  Penfield  Evans.  "  Oh,  I'm 
so  happy,  Penny  dear!  " 

"Betty!" 

After  that  there  was  a  long  silence  .  .  .  silence 
broken  only  by  that  softly  sibilant  detonation  which 
belongs  most  properly  to  the  month  of  June,  but 
confines  itself  to  no  season  .  .  .  to  a  long,  long 
silence  born  of  and  blessed  by  the  gods  .  .  .  until 
one  Percival  Sheridan,  coming  stealthily  home  from 
a  late  debauch  at  Humphrey's  drug  store,  and 
mounting  the  steps  in  the  tennis  sneakers  which 
were  his  invariable  wear  on  dry  and  non-state 
occasions,  bumped  into  the  invisible  and  unhearing 
couple. 

"  Say,  there — "  gasped  the  startled  youth,  back 
ing  away. 

Betty  gave  an  affrighted  cry — it  was  a  long  swift 
journey  down  from  where  she  had  just  been.  Her 


THE  STURDY  OAK  345 

right  hand,  reaching  drowningly  out,  fell  upon  a 
familiar  shoulder. 

"It's  Pudge!"  she  cried.  "  Pudge  "—shaking 
him — "  snooping  around,  listening  and  trying  to 
spy " 

"  You  stop  that — it  ain't  so !  "  protested  the  out 
raged  Pudge,  his  utterance  throttled  down  some 
what  by  the  chocolate  cream  in  his  mouth. 

"  Spying  on  people !  And,  besides,  you've  been 
stuffing  yourself  with  candy  again !  You're  ruining 
your  stomach  with  that  sticky  sweet  stuff — you're 
headed  straight  for  a  candy-fiend's  grave.  Now, 
you  go  upstairs  and  to  bed !  " 

She  jerked  him  toward  the  door,  opened  it,  and 
as  he  was  thrust  through  the  door  Pudge  felt  some 
thing,  something  warm,  press  impulsively  against  a 
cheek.  Not  until  the  door  had  closed  upon  him  did 
he  realize  what  Betty  had  done  to  him.  He  stood 
dazed  for  a  moment — unbalanced  between  impulses. 
Then  the  sturdy  maleness  of  fourteen  re  won  its 
dominance. 

"  Guess  I  know  what  they  was  doing,  all  right — 
aw,  wouldn't  it  make  you  sick !  "  And,  in  disgust 


346  THE  STURDY  OAK 

which  another  chocolate  cream  alleviated  hardly  at 
all,  he  mounted  to  his  bed. 

Outside  there  was  again  silence  .  .  .  faintly 
disturbed  only  by  that  softly  sibilant,  almost  muted 
percussion  which  recalls  inevitably  the  month  of 
June.  .  ...  .., 


THE  END 


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